Blood for Blood
by Domitian
Summary: An American Civil War story. Historically accurate. South was born among the cotton fields when he is found and taken to Washington. There he becomes America's little brother. Slowly America begins to understand the difficulties of being an older brother.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:**

 **I know I promised this at the end of the summer and I'm sorry to say it is still in the works. However, I am posting the first chapter to let everyone know I am still working on it and I haven't forgotten about it. When the second chapter comes out, I will begin weekly updates on the story. I currently have eight chapters written for this story and it's required a TON of research.**

 **When I am confident I can update weekly on the story, I will post the second chapter. This is simply to let everyone know I am still working on it! It's been a greater undertaking than I expected it to be.**

 **Please enjoy the story! Remember I enjoy all types of feedback! If I have managed to screw up some of the history, feel free to let me know and I'll be sure to correct my errors in the next chapter's author's notes.**

 **I do not own Hetalia.**

 **Historical quotes are in italics. Feel free to look them up.**

 **I will say I don't have as many quotes in this story as I did in America's Promise. In fact, the first chapter is the only one currently with a quote.**

* * *

 **Chapter one: Revolutionary War**

 _Yorktown, October 19, 1781_

Britain had lost. He sat there on his knees the tears he had been so desperate to hold back now came forward in waterfalls. Ugly sobs wrecked his body as America stood stone faced above him staring. Shame coursed through the Empire. He should have been able to do it. He should have taken that shot.

"You were once so great," America told him only to bring more sobs from his chest.

America stayed silent with his teeth tight together and his head held high waiting for Britain to finish. Finally, Britain stood and wiped the tears from his eyes. A weary, bitter smile twisted his lips. Through the hiccups Britain managed to respond.

"One day, boy, you'll know the pain of having a part of you torn away, and when that day comes I'll watch with interest," Britain guaranteed.

America's eyes, which were beginning to soften, suddenly hardened again.

"That won't happen because I'll treat my people right," America replied self-assured.

Britain shook his head, "You are brand new America, barely even a country, if I could call you that!" Britain spat.

"I am a country and you will recognize me!" America roared.

Britain was unfazed by America's aggression, "You are only thirteen nation states! That does not make a country! You'll learn, boy, your states will be your downfall," Britain disagreed.

Fire burned in America's eyes. He had worked so hard to become equal with Britain and still the Empire mocked him even in defeat. America would not be Britain.

 _Paris, September 3, 1783_

Britain barely made eye contact with his previous colonies. He could barely stand to be in Paris where France stared smugly at Britain. Of course, France and Spain had supported America in his revolution against Britain. The entire situation made him sick.

"Why Britain, you must be going soft," France said as Britain signed the document.

France continued to make this more difficult. It took everything not to strangle his long standing enemy then and there.

"Shut it, frog, this has nothing to do with you," Britain grumbled out instead.

"You must have cared so much for young America here," France threw an arm around America, who suddenly looked uncomfortable.

"France," America muttered in distress.

Britain gritted his teeth, but chose not to reply. This was purely for Britain's gain not America's. He still wanted to be close to America, so perhaps he was being a bit generous in his terms of the treaty. This would also help Britain out by keeping America as a valuable trading partner. He wasn't ready to let America go yet.

"Perhaps, you _seek to buy peace rather than make it_ ," France continued to instigate.

"Cut it out France!" America suddenly declared glaring at the French nation.

Britain looked at America astonished that he had taken up for the Empire. A sudden feeling of hope curled in his chest that maybe one day they could repair their relationship and be close again. It would take decades, centuries perhaps, but Britain thought he would be ready for that.

As the meeting ended, Britain found America ready to depart. The ship flew the new nation's stars and stripes and it caused nausea to settle in his stomach. The lad was truly a country now and with it would come many hardships. Britain could only hope he'd prepared America enough.

"I hope you're ready," Britain startled America, who hadn't noticed the Empire.

America frowned gaining his composure quickly, "For what?" he questioned confused.

Britain chuckled sardonically, "You're new, America. Everyone is going to be taking advantage of you, and that includes me," Britain threatened subtly.

America's confusion turned to anger, "But the treaty-," Britain interrupted him gleefully.

"Oh dear boy! You sincerely think that sheet of paper is going to make people respect you?" Britain questioned in disbelief.

America's anger deflated and he turned without a word onto his ship. Britain was filled with a self-loathing as he watched America's ship slowly depart into the sea on a long journey back to his soil. Britain sighed. He'd had to warn the boy. He had wanted to be on equal terms with the world, and now he'd have to deal with the consequences.

 _March 14, 1794_

He'd been born amongst the cotton fields and found by dark-skinned laborers. Confusion settled deep in the plantation he was born on in Virginia. Where had the child come from, and how had such a young child managed to survive on his own? These are what his caretakers wondered.

The senator had been visiting his home on the day the slaves found the boy on his plantation. The child was darker skinned than that of a proper white child indicating he must have come from a poor family who could not afford slaves. His hair had been sun bleached blonde from his time out in the sun and these traits made his dark blue eyes stand out all the more prominently.

James Monroe was the senator of Virginia and all it took was one word from the child for him to realize that this child was not ordinary. James Monroe was aware of the personification of the newly proclaimed United States as all the Founding Fathers were, and the more he stared at the child the more he saw America.

"Who are you, child?" James Monroe questioned.

The boy that sat on his lap blinked up at Monroe and smiled.

"South," was all he said and James felt his heart still.

This could not be another country. What did this mean? Another war? South? South what? Monroe felt his breathing speed up as he held the child. They had worked so hard to form America. They couldn't lose it to this boy.

The boy's head cocked to the side as he watched Monroe with knowing eyes. This child was the physical embodiment of a country, yet he knew Monroe. Monroe was one of his senators.

"You should not be afraid, Mr. Monroe," the boyish tone attempted to calm him with a comforting smile.

"How has this come to be?" Monroe asked in astonishment.

South shrugged, "I am the avatar of the Southern United States. All I know is I was birthed from the will of the people here," the boy was so elegant in his wording, Monroe found him questioning the age of South.

"Does America know of you?" Monroe asked.

South shook his head, "Not yet. He is more concerned with Britain," the boy answered.

"I see. You are aware of him?" Monroe questioned.

"Yes, he is unaware of my birth," South reiterated.

Monroe felt a terrible foreboding settle in his chest. This child was a part of America and he would be fool to allow such a treasure to run free. The British and the French would love to get their hands on such a possession.

"Would you be amendable to travel with me back to Washington?" Monroe questioned in acquiesce.

South looked up at him with big eyes, "I would love to," he answered.

 _Washington D.C_

When Monroe walked into the Senate chamber with the boy in tow, everyone stopped for a moment to see who had interrupted. Eyes widened around the room as they saw the boy before turning to confusion. John Adams cleared his throat to silence the murmuring.

"James," Adams began carefully, "You are aware children are not permitted during sessions."

Monroe looked out of place. He had hoped he would find America here, but the country was nowhere to be seen. Even if the country wasn't here now, he would be soon when he unveiled South to the Senate. America would know the moment his government did.

"This is no ordinarily child, John. Look at him," Monroe cast his gaze down to the boy, who looked at everything in fascination.

"Good Heavens," Adams gasped and his face paled.

"Meeting is adjourned. I will reschedule within the coming week," Adams managed and with a shaky hand he slammed the gavel.

Adams waited impatiently for the Senate to file out in confusion. Monroe wiped the slight sweat that had beaded up on his forehead. Finally, the last of the Senate had left and Adams turned on Monroe.

"What is this?" Adams hissed his eyes briefly making contact with South before flying back to Monroe.

"This, John, is the personification of the Southern United States of America," Monroe announced heavily.

The Vice President stared at the boy as South stared back at him curiously.

"There's no denying the resemblance. It's uncanny," Adams sighed running a hand down his face.

"George isn't going to like this."

"And what is he not going to like?" George Washington appeared in the doorway with a wide-eyed America.

America felt like his airway was too restricted to breathe. A part of himself had gained sentience. Something had triggered a birth of a new embodiment of his country. His, America's, not this boy's. Even during the Revolutionary War none of his states had gained the ability to personify their own avatar. America had been almost certain one would appear since his states' rights made each one nearly their own country. A major event had taken place to cause this, and America would get to the bottom of it.

"Mr. President, sir," Adams managed shakily, "And Mr. America, it is a pleasant spring day, is it not?"

Washington stared at the boy holding onto Monroe's hand that smiled up at him.

"No pleasantries, please, John, I am more interested in what now holds to James' hand," Washington declared.

The president walked forward leaving America still frozen in the doorway and kneeled in front of the boy, who had yet to say anything during the entire introduction.

"Who are you," Washington asked softly.

"South," the boy responded in a southern accent and held out his hand politely, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Washington."

"The pleasure is mine," Washington responded in a knee jerk reaction.

Washington looked stunned as he took the small hand in his own and paled. The boy was strong. South's grip left imprints of his small fingers in the skin of the president's hand when Washington pulled away. Southern economy had begun to boom after the invention of the cotton gin and it certainly showed in this boy.

"The cotton gin," America muttered with wide eyes.

Eli Whitney had just managed to get his patent on the invention recently, but how could a simple economy boost create a personification?

Washington turned to America then as if to ask what to do about this. America slowly stepped forward completely unprepared to meet this new personification of his Southern states. The South's eyes never wavered from America's face as the country kneeled before his Southern states.

"I'm America," America introduced himself lamely, his mouth suddenly filled with cotton ironically.

South's eyes twinkled and he smiled a toothy grin, "I am our Southern States of America, sir. I have been excited to meet you since arriving," the boy was ever so polite and the accent warmed America's heart.

"Well, South," America sighed, "I guess that makes me your big brother."

And the thought terrified America, him, a big brother. He wasn't ready for this. He'd barely just won his independence from Britain.

Britain.

Britain could never know about the South's personification. The words spoken to him the day he finally beat his ex-brother echoed in his mind.

"One day, boy, you'll know the pain of having a part of you torn away, and when that day comes I'll watch with interest."

America would never allow his South to be taken from him. He would rather be dissolved than allow anyone to take his new brother away. The United States of America reached down and pulled South into his arms as the boy immediately wrapped his arms around his big brother's neck.

Washington, Monroe, and Adams watched with open interest at the interaction and the trio breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps they had been wrong to assume that America would dissolve by the hands of South. America should be able to keep his southern little brother contained.

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 **Thank you so much for reading! I'm hoping to start weekly updates around Thanksgiving. I'm estimating about 15 or more chapters in the story's entirety.**

 **I love all reviews, favorites, and follows! I don't mind if you're too shy to review still feel free to follow and read and I'll know you enjoyed the story.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**

 **Don't get too excited. I got extra patriotic today voting and decided to post a chapter! I managed to write a whole chapter today alone. I'm up to chapter ten now and still haven't even gotten into the Civil War. I've only written events leading up to the Civil War and defining South and America's relationship. I thought this would last 5 chapters tops, but as it turns out there are a lot of things that led to the Civil War. lol**

 **Special thanks to my reviewer, ElricGurl the Hetalian! I am so glad you love it! Thanks for your review and support!**

 **Once more if I screwed up history let me know and I'll correct it next chapter in the author's notes.**

 **I do not own Hetalia.**

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 **Chapter two: Louisiana Purchase**

 _1798: Revoking of Pinckney's Treaty_

"I can't believe this!" America raged pulling at his hair before punching a hole into the wall.

John Adams watched America with a thin line of disapproval on his lips. He had known the news would upset his nation, but he had hoped he would take it more gracefully. South stood by watching his brother with an air of concern and opportunity. He wanted New Orleans. Anger boiled in the Southern state's personification at the idea of Spain believing he could limit South's trade, but instead of lashing out he remained calm. He was a Southern gentleman after all.

"How can they revoke the treaty? What right do they have to take away my trade in New Orleans! Damn Spain. Damn it all to hell!" America continued to rant.

"America," Adams called out as the nation turned to him in a fit of rage, "You know as well as I do these things take time. Our people are going further and settling the land. Spain won't be able to hold Louisiana much longer. They are weak after their war with the French."

America slowly calmed down and nodded as South smirked. The young boy had grown into a child resembling the age of an eight year old.

"We are stronger than Spain. We can take New Orleans for ourselves," South gave America an expectant look.

America frowned, "No, I won't leave the east coast undefended for Britain to get his hands on," America shook his head as if to clear it.

South knew that answer was coming. America was constantly at his ex-brother's heels with a need to show Britain that America couldn't be pushed around. It was grating on South's nerves, but he followed America. After all, he was a part of America and what his brother decided was final.

"Of course," South nodded and looked up to Adams.

Adams sighed, "I think it is wise to wait. Spain won't be able to hold onto it long," the president nodded and turned on his heel and left bidding the two a good day.

America sighed and looked over at South, who was pouting slightly. The nation rolled his eyes and smiled fondly at his younger brother his temper subsiding slightly as he patted the youngster's head and messed up his blonde hair. Blue eyes similar to America's own glared up at him.

"America!" he exclaimed trying to part his hair back into place.

"Don't fret so much, bro. One way or another I'll get you New Orleans," America promised ignoring the outburst.

South's eyes lit up then and he smiled an identical smile to America's, "You mean it big brother?" South questioned hopefully and ran to hug America around the waist.

America chuckled, "Yeah," he answered hugging his brother back.

 _1801: Livingston_

It only took a couple of years for the treaty to be put back into place and it only got better from then on. Napoleon had managed to take back the land during France's war with Spain and now South was hoping to be able to negotiate the purchase of New Orleans. At first, South had been worried when Napoleon had sent troops to New Orleans after taking the port from Spain. South didn't want Napoleon banning slavery in Louisiana. It would start a domino effect and then where would his economy be? America had managed to elect Thomas Jefferson as his next president during this time and everything was starting to fall into place.

"Please Mr. President. Please!" South begged in the oval office.

Jefferson looked up from his pen at the Southern part of the nation with an exasperated sigh. He put down his pen from the draft he'd been working on and rubbed his temples. Finally, he looked up into the boy's pleading eyes and smiled fondly. South was truly a master at manipulation. He had been playing the long game for New Orleans for a while.

"Go get me Livingston," he told South as the young personification's eyes widened.

"Seriously!" South shouted happily.

"No promises, but I'll try," Jefferson stated giving South a warning look.

"Okay, I'll get him!" South exclaimed and rushed out the door to find the French ambassador.

Jefferson rolled his eyes as the boy ran out the door barely containing his excitement. He went back to his work when a voice startled him from the documents.

"I wonder who spoils him more. You or me," America said with a halfcocked grin and leaned against the doorway.

"Oh, Mr. America, I did say no promises and I fully intended to bring the matter up with you before I decided to put it up to a vote," Jefferson explained himself before going back to drafting the proposal.

America walked forward to study what the president was working on and smiled even bigger seeing it was a request to travel to Paris to negotiate the trade or purchase of the port, New Orleans, into the United States. America couldn't deny it felt good. He also wanted that port. It was the most important trade route for the Mississippi River and perhaps America's desire to have it had manifested into his Southern states as it would boost their economy even more.

"Well, Mr. President, I promised South New Orleans years ago. Even went as far as to threaten France with an alliance with Britain," America chuckled, "Keep up the good work."

Jefferson smiled at America and nodded just as South ran in dragging poor Livingston with him. South's strength made it near impossible for the man to pull away from the young personification, and he looked resigned to his fate. Livingston gave both America and the president an exasperated look.

"You couldn't have waited until I was finished with lunch?" Livingston questioned annoyed as South let go of his hand.

Livingston gingerly rubbed his palm as South had squeezed it hard enough to bruise. America gave South a stern expression.

"We've talked about this South. You can't just drag around our personnel like they're your own personal slaves," America scolded the Southern states.

South wasn't even deterred of his mood with the reprimand. He was excited at the prospect of finally having New Orleans. South didn't bother pointing out the only reason he didn't have his own personal slaves was because America was slowly beginning to ban slavery, which was increasingly unsettling for South, but he refrained from mentioning it. South did not want to fight with his brother today especially with New Orleans so close to becoming a part of him.

"Yes, America," South responded sounding more sarcastic than sorry.

America frowned at him sternly letting loose a frustrated sigh from his nose. South and America had been fussing a bit lately over slavery. America pointed out often that the Declaration of Independence said all men were created equal to which South would pout and argue that slaves were not men but property. America usually would end the argument by just letting South have what he wanted. He had a hard time not giving in to his younger brother's wants.

South gave America an excited grin instantly wiping away America's frustration. America returned his Southern half's smile.

Livingston grumbled and looked at the president, who was giving the French ambassador an apologetic smile.

"I apologize for South's overzealous enthusiasm, but I have a job for you that is rather important," Jefferson began and held the proposal up for Livingston to read.

Livingston took the document and his eyes began to travel across the words and as he read the larger his eyes became until he looked up at Jefferson in shock. He finally understood why South had been so adamant in dragging him to the oval office. This was a huge task that was being asked of him.

"You want me to negotiate the purchase of New Orleans?" Livingston questioned even though he had just read the answer.

Jefferson nodded.

Livingston gave a loud momentous sigh and looked towards America and his brother. South was grinning ear to ear and America had laid a heavy palm on the young Southern half's shoulder. America gave Livingston a nod as well. As one of the Founding Fathers of America, Livingston felt a need to double check with his nation. With only what Livingston could describe as a boulder landing on his shoulders, he turned with his new task and went to prepare for the journey to France.

 _1802: Saint Domingue_

"We can't let France regain any control in North America," America stated as he paced back and forth.

"Best to maintain neutrality," Jefferson agreed with a nod watching America.

"I think we should arm the rebels," South piped up.

America stopped pacing and Jefferson stared at the boy, who was currently playing with America's old toy soldiers Britain had made for him. It was said in a flippant tone and South hadn't even looked up from his toy soldiers. America looked over at Jefferson, who looked back at America. They both knew France was attempting to regain control of Saint Domingue in the Caribbean giving him a major hold in North America. Arming the rebels would help ensure that France stayed out.

"I'll send word out to allow war contraband to the rebels in Saint Dominque," Jefferson muttered as he shifted through the papers at his desk.

South looked up from his toys confused, "You're actually considering it?" South questioned.

Usually his ideas were discarded in favor of America's.

"Way to go little bro!" America complimented South and looked at him in the floor.

South turned to his brother with toothy grin showing what had held the Southern half's attention during America and Jefferson's discussion. America frowned when he studied his old toys.

"South?" America called.

"Yeah?" South answered.

"Did you paint the soldiers I gave you?" America asked.

There was a brush and expensive paint jars on the floor. South had paint on his clothes and had managed to get some on the floor of the oval office. America was preparing to scold the boy that the oval office was not the place for arts and crafts especially when it was something as damaging as paint when he saw that South had painted them two different colors.

"Why didn't you paint them all blue?" America inquired.

America had assumed South was removing the British red from the soldiers and turning them more into the blue uniforms Americans wore.

South shrugged, "I thought there needed to be two sides," he explained.

America scowled as he studied the two different sides South had created. Half of the soldiers stood proud in America's blue union uniforms and the other half were now in stormy gray uniforms giving America a slight uneasiness in the pit of his stomach.

 _1803_

A secret meeting was currently being held in the White House. America had forced an unwilling South to the meeting promising his younger brother that it would be worth his while. South had reluctantly accompanied the North American nation to the oval office. There Jefferson was with a French man known as Pierre Samuel du Pont de Nemours. South looked at America in confusion, but America didn't look at him.

"Thank you for coming Alfred. This is Du Pont a negotiator of secrecy to France," Jefferson introduced.

Du Pont looked at America then to South in confusion. He turned to Jefferson with a look demanding him to explain the two's presence.

"Pleasure to meet you, I am Alfred F. Jones and this is my younger brother, William Jones," America introduced the two of them.

Du Pont turned from Jefferson to nod at the two seemingly young men, "Bonjour," he greeted.

"Now Du Pont is close with Napoleon in France and has offered his services to us," Jefferson informed them gesturing for Du Pont to talk.

"At this time," his French accent was a little thick, "I think it would be best for the current tensions between France and the United States if we orchestrate a larger purchase than just New Orleans."

America scowled, "What do you mean a larger purchase?" he questioned.

"As in the entire Louisiana territory," Du Pont made a grand gesture.

South shook his head interrupting America's reply, "Why should we have to purchase a land we rightly deserve? I can already feel it as a part of me. France has no right to it," South said adamantly.

"William," America scolded as Du Pont and Jefferson both looked towards the boy.

"No, William is right. France has no right to it, but I cannot risk the French taking Louisiana over," Jefferson stood up for South leaving America to grit his teeth at the undermining of his authority.

Du Pont looked unsurely between the three feeling uncomfortable at the sudden tension. South was shooting America a smug look as Jefferson had returned to his documents and began to search for a paper he had finished drafting earlier in the week. He handed it wordlessly over to Du Pont.

"You already knew what I was coming to discuss," Du Pont accused of Jefferson breaking the ice in the room.

Jefferson shook his head, "I hoped. I drafted two others in case of a different outcome. If you will be on your way to France," Jefferson dismissed the Frenchman.

Once Du Pont had left, America stepped forward with a scowl, "Jefferson this isn't right. All I wanted was New Orleans for South not all of this. Britain and Spain are both going to flip," America stated.

South scoffed, "Since when have you cared about Britain?" he asked.

America turned to the young personification, "I don't!" he snarled.

South glared at America, "You just don't want me to gain more slave states!" he accused his brother.

America felt his temper rise, "I've let you have your slavery. I'm not arguing about this again. You got what you wanted!" America argued fiercely.

"Boys please!" Jefferson stepped forward with a frown, "The decision has been made!"

America forbade South to come as he traveled across the Atlantic. He shook hands with France and the deal was made. The Louisiana Purchase treaty was signed on April 30 1803 in Paris. America couldn't help but feel as if this would divide him further from his younger brother.

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 **There we are, chapter 2! Next chapter is scheduled to come out on Thanksgiving. Thanks for reading!**

 **Feel free to review/favorite/follow! I love knowing if you enjoyed the story!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:**

 **Happy Thanksgiving everyone!**

 **I'm doing a bit of late night writing and decided to get this chapter up in the wee hours. To keep you guys updated on my progress, I'm currently in the middle of chapter 12 of this story.**

 **Weekly updates start after this chapter! Updates will be every Thursday whenever I can get to my computer. When I finish the story, I'll do daily updates.**

 **Huge thanks to my reviewers:**

 **ElricGurl the Hetalian: It does get sad eventually. The election was crazy. I'm not really sure how America would react to it. lol South does get taken down a few pegs, but that's not until the Civil War. Thanks for your support!**

 **K (guest): I am so glad you love it! In chapter one South is around 4-5 years old. In chapter two he's around 8. In this chapter he's in his pre-teens. I made him mature for his age due to the antebellum period where slaves did all the work giving children more time to study and learn. In the North, children were usually sent to work as soon as they were able. Thanks for your support!**

 **If there is anything wrong with my history let me know and I'll correct it in next chapter's author's note.**

 **I do not own Hetalia.**

* * *

 **Chapter Three: Missouri Compromise**

 _1819: Missouri's request to become a state_

South had undergone a growth spurt after the Louisiana Purchase. He was in his awkward puberty stage where his voice broke and he needed new clothing every few years. He was growing rather quickly and his economy continued to nourish the boy's physical appearance. He currently stood nervously outside the oval office where his favorite Founding Father had become president, James Monroe, and his older brother, America, were currently in a heated discussion.

South knew why. He also knew he was going to make it worse. Clutched in his hands was the document requesting for Missouri to enter the union as a slave state. America would see it as South attempting to gain more power over him, which was not untrue. South only wanted to be strong enough to keep slavery. He could feel his people's excitement over having more slave states than free making him excited as well. Why couldn't America just be happy for him?

He loved his brother and couldn't help the sense of pride he felt for America after the War of 1812. It was like he got a taste of what it felt like to fight for independence. America had enjoyed the war saying it made him feel like he had earned his independence a second time. South loved fighting by America's side only he felt like he'd wanted to fight for himself. He had batted these feelings away. There was no way he could make it on his own without America.

The door flew open startling South from his thoughts. Monroe frowned and looked down at the boy he had discovered on his plantation many years ago. He let loose a heavy sigh and forced a smile for the young personification. The toll of arguing with America had tired Monroe out.

"How long have you been listening?" Monroe questioned as he eyed the paper in South's hand.

"Long enough to know ya'll are going to hate me for this," South answered in his thick Southern drawl.

Monroe's eyes hardened but at the same time he shook his head, "Neither I or America could ever hate you. Now what do you have for me?" Monroe coaxed him.

South held the paper out for Monroe to take as America appeared in the doorway.

"South? How long have you been there?" America asked nervously.

America didn't want South to hear him arguing with Monroe over slavery. It had become a hot topic for America and his brother and America didn't want to make tensions worse between them. South didn't answer and watched as Monroe's face morphed into absolute shock. He looked down at South meeting the early teenager's eyes.

"Oh South, what have you done," Monroe whispered in anguish.

America frowned making a noise of curiosity as he snatched the document from his president's hands. As his eyes went back and forth across the page, his hands began to shake and his expression turned angry. When he finished, the paper was crinkled from how tight America held onto it. He made eye contact with his brother, who looked back at him with guilty eyes.

"What is this?" America inquired with a calm before the storm tone.

South hesitated before adopting a more confident look, "I am requesting that Missouri be entered into the Union," South answered strongly with his chin held high.

"As a slave state, South what are you thinking! You can't do this!" America shouted balling the paper up and tossing it away.

"Ameri-," South was interrupted as he watched the paper ball fly through the air in horror.

"Are you trying to betray me? Is that it? You want to make sure you surpass me with more slave states than free? I have news for you little brother! It's not happening! You can forget this ever happened. Slavery needs to be abolished. The Constitution is constantly being broken and it hurts me! Do you even care about me, South?" America ranted raking his hands through his hair on repeat.

"Do you even care about me, America!" South shouted back doing his best to keep his tears from falling.

America glared at his Southern half, "Get out," he said harshly.

South stared at America like a deer in headlights, "But-," once more South was interrupted.

"I said get out!" America bellowed breathing hard.

South ran slamming the door as he left. Tears stained his cheeks and heavy sobs wrecked his chest. Why couldn't America see that he needed slavery? His economy would be ruined. The cotton industry he had worked so hard for would be demolished. Without slavery he'd be nothing. Most of his assets were slaves. Simply because he was petitioning for a new state didn't mean he wanted to be better than America. He was afraid his older brother would take slavery away. America had already admitted Ohio as a free state with no complications. South hadn't argued against it. He'd even let America ban the slave trade even though he still shipped slaves in without America's knowledge.

He finally made it to his room where he dramatically threw himself onto the bed and cried until his head might split from the headache. Soon, he fell into a much needed sleep.

America paced in the oval office. He'd just been scolded heavily by Monroe before the president tiredly excused himself to his chambers. How could his own brother betray him like this? South hadn't even asked him about Missouri. This was America and South was a part of him, so why did it feel like they were two separate countries? The older South got the more it seemed the two of them fought. Why couldn't South see how immoral slavery was? How slavery was a weight upon America's shoulders that burdened him ever since he became independent? It violated the Constitution.

America sighed and sat down heavily running a palm down his face. He had already been wound up from his fight with Monroe. Perhaps he had been a bit too harsh with the young Southern states. America thought back to the look of pure melancholy on his brother's face. America groaned. He hadn't even let South get one word out before he had verbally butchered him.

"You really did it this time, America," he muttered to himself.

There had to be a way for America to fix this, a compromise of some sort so that the both of them would be happy. America really didn't like to fight with his Southern half, but Congress would not react well to South's proposal. If this was to work, America would have to find a better solution.

America had not slept all night in favor of fixing his mistake and his relationship with his brother. He saw an opportunity by allowing a territory of Massachusetts, the District of Maine, to become its own state. The territory was already campaigning for statehood after Massachusetts hadn't defended it during his war against Britain a few years ago. Pushing Maine in with Missouri would keep the slave and free states equal. When Monroe walked in the next morning, America thrust the newly written document at the president.

"What's this now?" Monroe said suspiciously as he began to read the words.

America watched in anticipation as Monroe smiled gently and looked up at America.

"This is good work America, but it's going to take more than compromise to make up for hurting his feelings," Monroe informed his nation.

America scowled, "What do you mean? I did it. I got South what he wanted and made it equal," he answered confused.

Monroe shook his head fondly. Sometimes America could be a little dense. The new nation hadn't quite got a grasp on social etiquette.

"You need to go to him. He likely still assumes you're angry with him and it wouldn't hurt to apologize," Monroe explained.

America stared at Monroe for a long moment, "Apologize? For what? He knew it was wrong to try and shift the balance. You saw him!" America declared vehemently.

Monroe sighed, "You could have worked through it together instead of sending him off in tears," the president stated to a suddenly crestfallen America.

America let loose a heavy guilt ridden sigh, "Yes, perhaps you're right, James," America conceded.

Monroe nodded and went to place the new Missouri Compromise on his desk, "Off you go. I'm already going to have a time dealing with Congress over this," Monroe dismissed his country.

America walked slowly through the White House to his younger brother's chambers. He felt trepidation settle in his breast the closer he got to the room. He sighed again before knocking on the door. When he received no answer, America slowly turned the knob and the door creaked open.

"South?" America called softly seeing the early morning light on his brother's body as he slept.

He looked innocent sleeping. South's chest gently rose and fell as he breathed and a small drool stain had accumulated during his sleep. The younger personification's nose had been stopped up so he was forced to sleep with his mouth open. Clutched in his arms was a small Revolutionary style doll America had given him on the previous July 4th allowing the boy to share in his birthday. Guilt settled heavily on America seeing the swollen red eyes that still remained from the night before.

America sat down on the bed and shook South awake, "Hey, little bro," he called his Southern states again.

South opened his eyes and squinted against the morning sun before they landed on America and widened in surprise.

"America?" he questioned softly his voice rough from sleep.

"Yeah, look, I just wanted to say I shouldn't have yelled at you yesterday. I should have listened to you and I'm so sorry for what I did. Forgive me?" America smiled at South apologetically and held out his hand.

South looked at America dumbfounded his mind still stuck in a sleepy haze before the words registered in his mind. South gasped softly and smiled wide.

"For real?" he questioned excitedly.

America nodded, cleared his throat and gestured with his hand for South to take it. South pushed the hand away and hugged America tightly. America let out a slight huff remembering that South's economy was one of the largest in the world making the boy nearly as strong as America.

"So I take it I'm forgiven?" America asked with a chuckle.

"Yeah, let's never fight again," South said making America laugh more.

"Deal," America agreed, "Now let's head to the oval office. I want to show you what I've been working on all night."

"Okay," South answered getting out of bed to follow his older brother when America stopped and frowned at South.

"Hold up, no brother of mine goes out in his night gown. You're a representation of me. Come on. Let me help get my little southern gentleman get ready," America said cheerfully.

South grinned, "Okay!" he replied.

America smiled. Sometimes South reminded him of a younger Britain the way he declared himself a southern gentleman and made sure he was proper and decent. Lately, South had been trying to make himself out to be a respectable beau. America had to question the young boy on what he meant and gotten the cutest lecture on manners and etiquette.

Once America had spent the better part of the morning with his little brother he began to feel a lot better. In the oval office, Monroe smiled when he saw America and South chatting excitedly. The president did not feel like having a civil war on his hands over this and he feared for any president who had to deal with anything along those lines. The fights between America and his brother were usually bitter and loud.

"America? South? I take it the two of you worked things out?" Monroe interrupted the two boys.

The brothers looked at Monroe with identical faces. The only difference between the two was South's darker skin and brighter shade of hair.

"Yes sir," South answered as America nodded placing a hand on the younger's shoulders.

"Good, now this document has been looked over by a few Congressmen and Tompkins. A few edits were made, which I saw no issue in," Monroe stated.

South looked up at America who scowled at Monroe before walking forward and taking the paper. He read through it and nodded finding no issue with the edits. He passed the compromise to South and watched his face as he read through the paper. Finally, South gave a heavy sigh and nodded agreeing with the no slavery line that separated South's slave states from the North's free.

"You're okay with not allowing slavery in the North?" America questioned to make sure.

South thought for a moment before smiling, "Yeah, after all I only represent the South," South declared.

In 1820, the Missouri Compromise was passed by Congress unknowingly creating what would later be culturally known as the Mason-Dixon Line.

* * *

 ****Quick history lesson here: The Mason-Dixon Line only separates the states Pennsylvania, Maryland, Delaware, and West Virginia. Culturally and symbolically though, the Mason-Dixon line is considered what separated the North from the South or the slave states from the free states.**

 **Thank so much for reading! Feel free to drop a review or favorite/follow! I love feedback!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:**

 **Hello guys!** **I made a tumblr! Feel free to stop by for updates on the story and future stories** **! /blog/domitianfics**

 **Huge thanks to my reviewers:**

 **ElricGurl the Hetalian: I never hate new ideas. If you ever have anything you want to bounce off me go for it! Changing eye colors, I don't think I'll do, but the way I describe them can change. For instance, innocent blue eyes can turn stormy, which I'm sure I use at some point in the story. I have not considered scars! If I can fit some in, I'll try to work them in. Lincoln baited the Confederacy to attack by sending extra supplies to the fort making a show of power causing the already angered southern states to attack with the logic of 'attack first before Lincoln can attack us'. The South started the war. At least that is where my research took me, and how the story is being told. My history is always subject to be wrong if I've overlooked something. I'm modeling America after Britain for a reason in a "like father like son" way. It becomes more apparent later on how this affects the story. I'm impressed you caught that honestly! You're perfectly fine being an American history nerd! Thanks for your support!**

 **Decoris: Historical Hetalia fics are so much work, but so worth it! There will be so much tension, you won't know what to do with it all! lol And true, the Confederacy still influences a lot of the South. I live down the road from a Jefferson Davis Highway, and Confederate flags still wave proud everywhere in the deep south at 2016. America is trying to be a good parent to South, but its hard sometimes because he's so young. The European countries with their "little brothers" are usually MUCH older than them. America is like a teenage single father to South, completely clueless. Thanks for your support!**

 **If there is anything wrong with my history, please let me know and I'll address it in the author's note of the next chapter.**

 **I do not own Hetalia.**

* * *

 **Chapter Four: Increasing Divide**

 _Denmark Vesey Conspiracy: 1822_

South was currently in South Carolina. John Wilson, his senator from South Carolina, had come to him with a warning of a slave rebellion in Charleston. South hadn't told America why, but had informed his brother he was needed in South Carolina for a diplomatic meeting with Charleston's mayor. It wasn't exactly a lie, but neither was it truth. America had frowned. America never liked for South to leave Washington without supervision but he'd agreed.

"Mayor Hamilton, sir," South shook hands with the mayor having just arrived at the man's home, "I'm from Washington about the slave rebellion."

Hamilton looked at him in confusion, "I have a rebellion brewing and they send a boy?" the man questioned in disbelief.

South smiled politely, "I can assure you, Mr. Hamilton, I'm the best person to handle this. William Jones at your service," South introduced himself.

Hamilton's lips thinned in disbelief, but invited South in for a glass of lemonade and sat in the parlor. There Hamilton explained everything he had heard about the impending attack. A loyal slave had informed his master of the plot, and the evidence was quite damning. Hamilton slid a multitude of documents to South. The young personification took them and began to read through them.

South's eyes widened, "How many slaves are involved in this?" he questioned in disbelief.

Hamilton scowled, "Too many. And there are whites helping them. More and more of those abolitionists come into this city and think they can change the balance of things here," the mayor explained passionately.

South frowned, "Gather the militia," South told him.

Hamilton looked at South dumbfounded, "And do what?" he asked.

South gave a wave of his hand, "You know. Go out there, round up the conspirators, and kill them," South said with an apathetic tone.

"We have to have a trial first," Hamilton argued.

South gritted his teeth with impatience, "You have enough evidence in those files to put Vesey, the orchestrator if I'm correct, to death and the slaves need no trial. They are property," South stated matter of factly.

Hamilton nodded, "And the white people?" he questioned.

South frowned, "Give them a trial as well. Make them an example that anyone who attempts to dissolve slavery will be punished. Give them a fine and some jail time," South told him.

"Thank you, Mr. Jones," Hamilton thanked as the two stood up.

South made sure to finish his lemonade first before he was dismissed from the home. There he returned to Washington where in only a few months America found out about Vesey's hanging.

It was a couple of days after their birthday as America stalked through the halls of the White House. He threw open the door to South's room making his younger brother jump in his chair. South was working at his desk on some of Georgia's legislature at the request of one of its senators.

"Did you know about this?!" America demanded and thrust the newspaper at South.

South read the headline of the New York newspaper, "Looks to me like a successfully thwarted rebellion," South replied looking at America with innocent eyes.

America looked for a moment like he wanted to shout, but changed his mind and instead he gave a heavy sigh, "South, you can't kill people when they haven't done anything wrong," America lectured.

South frowned, "People? They were conspirators against the law, firstly, and secondly, they are property. The only thing killed here is some poor owner's assets," South explained.

America looked like he was going to explode, "South! What do you call someone with the same working body as yours only a different color? They are people! Please, South, please I hate that you feel this way. I love you, little brother, but you have to see how wrong this is!" America started out yelling before it steadily turned into begging.

South turned back to his paperwork, "I'll think about it, America," South conceded, if only to get America off his back.

America stared at South for a long moment before hanging his head in disappointment and closing the door.

 _1823_

The next year it got worse. In 1823, South Carolina began to arrest free blacks, any who entered their borders. It didn't matter if they had broken the law or not. They were black and that was enough reason for South Carolina to arrest them. The "Act for Better Regulation of Free Negros and Persons of Color" was extremely unconstitutional and America could not allow it. Damn his states' rights.

"South, you have to stop this!" America shouted for the umpteenth time.

South glared at his older brother, "Why should I? After all, I have every right. They want to incite rebellions and attempt to spread abolition then they will be arrested! I am not in the wrong here!" South argued back just as vehemently.

"Basing this decision off of one person of color isn't right! Punishing innocents on the crime of one man is wrong. Can't you see that?" America questioned not understanding how South could not.

"Blacks will always protect blacks, so whites need to protect whites. Why can't you see that I am only protecting the law and our people?" South shot back.

"They are all our people regardless of color, and you're not protecting any laws!" America spat, "You're only out for your own selfish gain! You're just trying to protect slavery!"

"So what if I am! You're not going to do it!" South yelled.

America growled and threw his hands up into the air before changing tactics, "And what about Britain?"

South's face morphed into confusion, "What about him?" South questioned not expecting the turn in conversation.

"He has ships coming into South Carolina all the time, and you know he has free blacks. Are you just going to arrest them too?" America questioned.

South pursed his lips and for the first time was speechless. If he began arresting British citizens he could incite a war between America and Britain. America's eyebrows went up and he began to tap is toe with impatience. Would South really go as far as to start a war with Britain for this?

South looked away from America and rubbed his left bicep with his right palm, "I guess I could let the British ones go," South conceded.

America let out a breath of relief. At least South still cared enough about America not to force the nation to go to war.

"You're not going to back down on this are you?" America questioned defeated.

South felt guilt worm its way into his chest and sighed, "I have to protect the people. I may have been able to prevent one rebellion, but what if I get taken by surprise? I can't take the risk on behalf of slaves," South explained.

America did not like it, but neither could he do anything about it. Words from the Revolutionary War haunted him, "You'll learn, boy, your states will be your downfall _,"_ Britain had said. America at the time hadn't believed him. He'd thought Britain the fool, but now his states' rights were restricting his access to his own nation.

 _1831: Nat's Rebellion_

South woke up in the early morning hours in a pain he didn't understand. He moaned and whimpered as he rolled out of bed and instantly felt the need to vomit. Thinking quickly, he grabbed his chamber pot thankful he hadn't had need for it that night and released the confines of his stomach. The taste of iron filled his mouth when he finished, and though he did not have enough light to see he knew he had expelled blood.

"America!" South called in a panic as he stood, but pain wrecked his body and he fell forwards.

He gripped his stomach feeling a wet sticky substance on his night gown. Tears began to fill his eyes and fall down his face. What was wrong with him?

"America!" South wailed again with sobs jerking his chest.

A panicked thumping started to make its way down the hall before South's door slammed open. A candle light illuminated the room allowing South to finally see the damage done to him. A clean cut horizontal on his left side was leaking more blood than South had originally thought. The smell of iron was thick in the room.

"South!" America was in hysterics as his horrified eyes saw the blood.

"America!" South cried out for a third time on the floor, "What's happening?"

America quickly bundled his Southern half in his arms uncaring of the blood staining his clothes, "Shh, it's okay South, you'll be fine," America comforted the physically fourteen year old boy.

America rushed South to where he knew he kept first aid supplies. He laid South down on a couch in one of the parlors and pulled out the old supplies. America hoped they weren't too old. He hadn't needed to use them since the War of 1812. He went to the cabinet where he knew alcohol was contained and pulled out a container of strong moonshine.

South was crying and jerking in pain on the couch. He had huddled himself into the fetal position and whimpered. America's heart was breaking. He didn't know what had happened, but whatever had caused his brother this much pain was going to regret it. America's heart pounded as he attempted to calm his terror that South was dying. He would not allow it.

"South, South! Listen to me," America called out twice to get his attention.

South turned to America his eyes filled with pain and fear.

America gave a hard sigh, "This is going to hurt. Here, bite down on this," America gave South a thick cloth.

Wide eyes stared at America before South took the cloth and bit down on it. America for a moment was thrown when he saw the amount of trust South had in him. America gave South a determined look before he began a countdown.

"Alright, brace yourself, three, two, one," and America poured the moonshine onto the wound.

South screamed into the cloth his hands clutched the couch until his knuckles turned white. America quickly cleaned the wound up to inspect the damage. The cut began on the left side where his stomach was and went in a slight diagonal across the ribs and up into his chest towards his heart. South would have internal bleeding. Something had happened in the South and whatever it was had frightened the people so much that it was showing in South's physical appearance.

America with war worn experience managed to, after a long pain filled morning, sown shut the wound and wrapped his little brother in bandages.

America then picked him up from the blood stained couch and took the Southern personification to America's own room. He laid his younger brother in the bed and petted his head. South was pale and had his eyes clinched shut. His breathing was shuttered and his body laid in the fetal position.

"America, it happened," South said softly.

America looked at his brother in confusion, "What happened?"

"The slaves rebelled," South stated.

America stiffened in surprise. Why hadn't America known that? South was a part of America, so why didn't America get any knowledge on this? Why hadn't America been injured? America had no idea how to deal with what was happening to him.

"I'll get to the bottom of this. I'll make sure anyone who was involved is punished," America promised and took the younger's hand.

South gave a long sigh and squeezed America's hand, "Is this how you felt when Britain burned Washington?" South asked.

America looked at South for a long time. When Britain had captured Washington, he'd felt as if his heart had been torn out. South hadn't been with him when it happened. America had sent his brother away with one of his best soldiers to keep him safe. South had been in New Orleans with Andrew Jackson at the time while America had helped lead the armies in Canada.

"It's the worst pain you can imagine. It was like a raging fire across my body. I screamed for a while. It really freaked out the soldiers. Then my heart stopped beating, but I could still move and walk. I stopped feeling anything positive or negative and I wanted to give up. I was carried on horseback with the army to take back Washington. I don't really remember the pain as much as I remember the emptiness. At least when you feel pain, you feel something," America explained suddenly looking as if he were a million miles away.

South squeezed America's hand again and the nation pulled himself back to the present and smiled at South.

"You won't ever have to worry about that. We have the same capital, and I'm never letting anyone near Washington again," America said, but even as he said that he knew Washington wasn't South's capital.

South didn't have a singular capital. He had a few, one in each state he represented, but America wanted to comfort his little brother. South hadn't felt any repercussions of the War of 1812 since it had all been fought in Canada and New England. It made sense, but it didn't make sense that America didn't feel South's pain. South was part of America, but America couldn't find an answer to this question.

South nodded, his pain, while still agonizing when he moved, had dulled to a constant burning, "You'll take care of the rebellion?" South questioned.

America scowled, "I'll make sure I find everyone involved and make sure this never happens again," America answered.

"It's in Virginia," South told him.

"Where in Virginia?" America pressed.

"Southampton County," South whimpered and scrunched his eyes closed, "It's getting worse."

America gritted his teeth, "I'm leaving for Virginia," America said angrily.

South shouted, "Don't leave me!" he cried and gripped America's hand hard.

"Do you want me to handle this?" America asked softly and knelt at his bedside.

South nodded.

"Then I will need to go now. I'll make sure you're taken care of. You'll make it. You're strong, South," America told the boy and kissed his forehead.

South let go of America's hand.

"Love you, America," South called out as America headed for the door.

America smiled, "Love you too, little bro," America replied.

America did make sure the rebellion was terminated. It lasted for two days in a murder spree that killed over fifty white people. During those two days before he had left, America had ensured his brother had two nurses working to make him comfortable. South woke up only to vomit or cry. Usually the nurses would give the boy morphine to keep him from hurting too much. America left South in the hands of the White House personnel, and went to Virginia personally. There he encountered chaos and fear before he had even gotten to the state and it was spreading like wildfire.

The militia and federal troops were rounding up conspirators at America's request when he'd gotten there. America walked along the long line of blacks that had been rounded up. Guilt began to pool in America's stomach as he saw the defeated looks of the rebels. These people didn't look violent. They just looked oppressed and used. America sighed and dragged a palm down his face.

"Do what needs to be done," America told the commander.

He couldn't watch as terrified shrieks and protesting voices reached his ears. He felt ashamed as many of the accused stated their innocence before they were executed.

America went home and wept the entire trip back to Washington.

* * *

 **Thanks so much for reading! Feel free to review/favorite/follow! I love every one of them.**

 **REMINDER: Updates every Thursday! Look of the next chapter next week!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:**

 **Going on a brief hiatus while I get my research done for the Civil War. So far I've only written events leading up to the war which is up to thirteen. Updates will still continue until I run out of chapters. I believe I'll have my research done before I run out of chapters, so I'll (cross my fingers) hopefully have most of the Civil War complete by the time we reach it.**

 **Huge thanks to all my favorites and follows!**

 **Special thanks to my reviewer: ElricGurl the Hetalian: I actually read that during the Civil War era morphine was prescribed often for pain. It did also state that it created many Civil War veteran addicts. :P I didn't really delve into culture like that with the South, so I had no idea people in the South hate medicine! My father was an expert in moonshine (and may have become a small town sensation for selling it...shh) , and cleaned all my cuts and scrapes with it (yes, it sucked, but my dad was a hardass). The Confederate flag as we know it today was a battle flag flown during battle, but the official flag was known as the "Stars and Bars." It had 3 stripes (the bars) and a circle of stars for each state. I actually use the Stars and Bars as this story's avatar! Not many people know that! Also, you're welcome. I love responding to reviewers! Thanks for your support!**

 **As usual, if my history is wrong let me know and I'll fix it next chapter's author's note.**

 **I do not own Hetalia.**

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Tariffs and Texas and Slavery oh my!**

 _Compromise Tariff of 1833_

Things were getting ugly between America and South. Ever since America had allowed the Tariff of 1828, otherwise known as the Tariff of Abominations by South, the two personifications had been fussing and fighting. Now it was beginning to reach a boiling point.

"You are ruining me!" South shouted at the top of his lungs, every bit the temperamental teenager.

America folded his arms, "Stop being so dramatic," he patronized the young personification.

"Dramatic? I'm being dramatic? You're the one that passed the damned Tariff of Abominations!" South declared and began to pace in a fury.

"And didn't I fix it? I passed the Tariff of 1832 didn't I? Dammit South, give me some credit, I'm trying here!" America replied.

"It's still too much! I've gotten sick too much in the past couple of years. Can't you see what this is doing to me, America?" South rebutted.

"I'm doing what needs to be done, South, I'm sorry if it doesn't line up with your interests. It benefits us as a whole," America argued.

"You mean it benefits you!" South roared and stomped a foot down in anger, "That's it. I'm nullifying your stupid tariffs."

America stiffened, "You can't do that," he disagreed.

South glared at America, "I can and I will. This is completely unconstitutional and I'm nullifying it. I will not make my people suffer so yours can benefit," South affirmed.

"Don't make me have to use force, South," America threatened.

South's eyes widened, "You wouldn't dare," he refuted.

"Try me," America growled walking up to South and boxing him in against the wall, "You are mine, a part of the United States of America, you seem to forget that here lately."

South gritted his teeth, "And what if I don't want to be a part of you anymore!" he shouted angrily, tears beginning to form in his eyes.

America didn't get a chance to reply as South pushed America away and ran. South's strength had diminished a little since the tariffs had been passed, but America allowed South to push him out of the way. America was shocked at South's statement. Since when did South not want to be a part of America? South slammed the door as left the room leaving America alone. A long silence passed as America sat heavily in one of the chairs of the parlor they had argued in. He sighed and held his head in both of his hands as he leaned on both his knees with his elbows.

"Teenagers," a voice startled America and his head popped around towards the voice.

"Oh, hey, VP, so you heard that, huh?" America questioned as John Calhoun closed the door behind him.

"I believe the entire White House heard that," Calhoun replied as America blew out a loud sigh.

"Yeah, I don't know what to do," America admitted.

"He has a point," Calhoun stated after a sympathetic nod with a pointed look at America.

America's face hardened, "You're only defending him because you're from South Carolina. He needs to learn he's not his own country. He needs to respect me and follow my orders. Perhaps I've been wrong to spoil him all this time. I'm putting a stop to it now," America asserted.

Calhoun shook his head, "You're only going to drive him away with that attitude. I've been in talks with Henry Clay, and I think we've found a solution," the vice president said.

America gave Calhoun a suspicious look, "What?" America asked.

From inside his jacket, Calhoun pulled out a thick document and handed it to America, "You should also know I'm quitting," Calhoun announced.

"What!" America shouted with wide eyes, "Why?"

Calhoun sighed, "I don't like the direction Andrew (Jackson) is going in this. I'll always support my home state, and Andrew is taking this too far. We can end this conflict by compromise," the soon to be ex vice president explained.

America frowned and looked at the folded documents in his hand, "It seems all we do now is fight and then compromise, fight and compromise," America complained sadly.

Calhoun smiled gently at America, "It's how all relationships are, America. You may be exempt from a lot of challenges humanity gives, but no one can escape the necessity of improving relationships," he advised the country.

America nodded slowly, "Yeah, I guess," he answered.

"Good, now I've got some dealings I must attend to before I give my resignation. Make up with your brother or I fear the worse," Calhoun instructed America.

He left America to read through the new tariff. As he read, he found it wasn't the worst compromise in the world, and he would benefit from it as would South through the years. America stood up and sighed as he made his way to his brother's room. He knocked softly on the door.

"Go away," he heard South answer wetly.

Guilt hit America hard, "South, let me in. I promise I'm not here to fight," America declared.

America heard some rustling behind the door before it creaked open slowly and South's red swollen eyes greeted him. The younger personification hiccuped then sniffled before he gestured America to come in. America stepped inside and wordlessly handed the document to South. South took the document and began reading through it. When he finished, he looked up at America and smiled softly.

"You're really willing to do this?" South questioned in disbelief.

"Of course, I hate our fighting. I'm sorry I yelled at you," America apologized.

South hugged him, "I'm sorry I said I didn't want to be a part of you anymore," South replied.

"Now come on, let's get this thing passed so we can start being bros again," America announced and South grinned.

The Compromise Tariff of 1833 was passed and kept the Union together for the time being.

 _Texas Independence 1836_

"Just try them on," America insisted.

"No, they look foolish. I'll get made fun of," South argued and crossed his arms pouting.

America sighed, "We won't tell anyone. It'll be our little secret. It'll help you out in the long run, and who knows maybe you'll grow to like them," the older persuaded.

South groaned and sighed before he plucked the object from America's hands and placed them on his nose. He blinked for a moment as the once blurry world before him came into focus in perfect clarity. He looked at America and grinned who grinned back at him.

"What'd I tell you? You look quite distinguished with Texas on your face," America complimented South.

South chuckled, "I never knew that everything was so prominent!" South said in wonder as he looked at everything.

America frowned, "What'd you mean?" he asked.

America had tried them on experimentally earlier that day, but found it made the world more blurry and out of focus. Had South not been able to see properly his entire life?

"Everything was so hard to focus on and now I can see without trying. Is this how everyone sees?" South questioned excitedly.

"Um, yeah," America answered unsurely.

"This is awesome!" South declared and went to go show the world his new ability to see.

"Wait a moment, South, remember it's our secret! Only use them when you're alone or in your room," America instructed.

South frowned, "Why?" he asked in confusion.

"It's complicated. I want Texas in the Union firstly, but if I let it in it'd be a slave state, a big one too. Secondly, Mexico is going to be super pissed. Some people aren't going to like it, so before I'm able to let it in I'm going to have to figure out how. I can't let Texas be recognized in the meantime, so only use them in secret," America explained.

South gave America a look, "You're not going to fight about letting Texas in as a slave state?" he inquired in amused disbelief.

America rolled his eyes fondly, "I've wanted Texas from Mexico for a long time. I'm not going to let slavery stand in the way of me getting what I want," America answered.

It would take nearly ten years before Texas would be entered into the Union. Secret talks with Texas' leaders took a while, and no personification had appeared for the Lone Star Republic leading America to believe that it was Manifest Destiny for Texas to be annexed into the Union.

 _1837_

"South, slavery is wrong that's all there is to it!" America said vehemently.

"Slavery is a positive good, America," South shot back.

America gave South a look of disbelief, "And just how is it a 'positive good?' America questioned with a tone of sarcasm.

"Have you even read about the European laborers? Do you even know of their conditions? The pauper is in much worse conditions than my slaves are and the pauper is free. My slaves are cared for by their masters and your abolitionists, who know nothing, are trying to make everything worse," South explained.

America shook his head, "You've delusional if you think that makes slavery a positive good. At least the pauper is free to make the wrong decisions," America argued back.

"Which is exactly why they do not need to be free! America, we must not let them make the wrong decisions!" South replied.

"The only wrong decision I'm seeing here is the decision to keep slavery! Can't you see how this racial injustice is tearing us apart! Just a couple of decades ago you were hurt by the racial tensions between slaves and their masters. Freeing them would solve all our problems!" America contended.

"Oh you mean like the smart decision to try and loan out all your money in hopes of making a profit? How did that work out America?" South goaded with a sadistic smile.

America sputtered, "How was I supposed to know that no one would be able to pay their loans back!" he shouted in humiliation.

"Have you even seen inflation? What about the unemployment rate? And you want to lecture me about slavery? How about you make sure you fix your own problems before you decide to shout at me about slavery. In case you haven't noticed, without me right now you'd be nothing!" South retaliated.

America gritted his teeth in anger, but South was right. He was in a financial panic, but it still didn't change his mind on slavery. The American Anti-Slavery Society continued to boom and make him more and more inclined to abolish slavery. At the same time, America could feel South's resistance to this movement strongly especially with John Calhoun influencing him so heavily.

"And without me you'd be nothing. If I had not won the Revolutionary War, you'd have never even been born!" America shot back.

South didn't react like America thought he would. South laughed caustically instead.

"Yeah, without you I would probably not exist, but slavery existed everywhere then, America. Have you ever considered that maybe what caused my birth was your internal struggle on whether or not to keep slavery? That I am the personification of your own hatred and that perhaps you've hated me all along?" South spoke as he turned his back to America.

America could feel tears welling up in his eyes at South's words as he stood in shock. He never hated South. He loved his brother. They argued a lot, sure, but to use the word hate hurt America. Had this been what South felt like all his life or was it a product of teen angst and rebellion?

"South, how could you say that? I've done nothing but shown you affection since the day I saw you with James Monroe in the Senate chamber. I don't approve of slavery, but that doesn't mean I hate you," America said wetly, tears in his eyes.

"You don't mean that. You're only saying that because you're weak right now," South replied, but his tone wavered.

"Even when I was strong I compromised with you. I made sure you had everything you ever needed or wanted. I never agreed with half of those things, but I did it for you. I did it because I didn't want to lose you. I love you South," America reiterated.

South finally turned around and had unshed tears in his eyes, "But you didn't want me. At the time you first saw me, no one wanted me, not even James when he found me," tears finally started to fall from South's eyes.

"Oh, South," America whispered heartbroken.

It was true. When America and his Founding Fathers had first laid eyes on South, they were all in a state of shock and trepidation. South had been quiet and friendly when spoken to, but America knew South could feel everything as a personification. America should have known when South was born, but he had been so preoccupied with proving himself to Britain he hadn't even noticed. So when America had seen South for the first time, he had not wanted him and hoped it had all been a bad dream.

"It's true isn't it? I wasn't supposed to exist," South cried and wiped the tears off his sleeve.

America quickly engulfed South in his arms. His Southern states fought him for a moment before giving in and clinging to his older brother and sobbed.

America wiped his own tears away on his sleeve, "South, I may not have been expecting you when you came along, but I wouldn't change anything. I don't know where I'd be if I didn't have you," America confided in his little brother.

"Probably better off," South wailed clutching his fists in America's clothing.

"Hush, now, none of that. You have been just as important as I have in running our nation, and I would not be better off without you," America said softly.

"Really?" South sniffled.

"Really, really," America confirmed.

"I love you, America, I'm sorry," South apologized.

America stroked South's hair, "I love you too, little bro," he returned.

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 **Thanks so much for reading! Feel free to review/follow/favorite! I love all of them!**

 **Reminder! I update every Thursday!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:**

 **Chapter fourteen still needs to be started. I hope to start it over Christmas holidays where I don't have to worry about work and being tired.**

 **Huge thanks to everyone who favorites/follows!**

 **Special thanks to my reviewer! ElricGurl the Hetalian: Get ready because there will be tons of feels in the future! Hopefully, your brother isn't too terrible. lol I hope you had a great birthday! Happy Birthday! Here's a chapter! :P It's awesome to live in a state full of history like South Carolina. That state is notorious ever since the formation of the United States up until the Civil War for picking fights with the Federal Government. Nothing wrong with being a little bit of history nerd! Thanks for your support!**

 **If my history is off, inform me and I will correct it next author's note.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

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 **Chapter 6: Texas Enters the Union**

 _1841: President Harrison dies_

South had woken up and gotten ready for the day without seeing America. It was a little unnerving not to hear his older brother's boisterous voice echoing through the White House. In fact, the more South thought about it the entire place was too quiet. He went to America's room in confusion. He knocked but didn't receive an answer. South opened the door and peaked inside. The morning sun was shining full force in the room, but America still remained huddled up in bed.

"America?" South called in apprehension.

He didn't receive an answer, so South walked into the room and shut the door behind him. Still America didn't stir. South tip toed slowly towards the bed.

"America?" South called again.

This time America moved rolling sluggishly towards South, "South?" America whispered in confusion, his eyes glazed over.

When America managed to face South, the younger gasped. America was sick, but this was unlike anything South had ever seen. It scared him. It frightened him down to his very core. America was supposed to be the strong one. He was never supposed to be hurt because he was America. He was South's older brother.

Tears filled South's eyes, "Are you dying?" South asked his eyes wide.

America frowned, but before he could answer he coughed into his hand a red and green sludge. South was even more frightened.

"South listen to me," America muttered and reached for the folded cloth on his night stand to wipe his hands.

"You are dying! You wouldn't be saying that if you weren't dying. America what happened? Am I going to die too?" South questioned in a panic.

America coughed again this time into the cloth, "South!" he would have shouted if he was well.

South had tears down his face now. He didn't answer just stared at America with his lips quivering. America sighed.

"Something bad has happened. Do you remember who our president is?" America questioned carefully.

South nodded. The president, William Harrison, had fallen ill recently and America and South had been running the country with the vice president by their side while he recovered.

"He's gone," America managed before another, this one the most extreme, coughing fit hit him again.

South stared at America for a long time while he heaved into his cloth with violent coughing. The younger personification was confused. What did America mean gone? The president should be resting in his room a few rooms down the hall. Had someone kidnapped him? Is this what was causing America to be sick? South wiped the tears away and put on a strong face. He would save America.

"How do I bring him back?" South questioned promptly when America finished coughing.

America stared at South for a long moment. The older country had to remember that South hadn't been around much death in his life. During the War of 1812, America had sent South to his own lands to keep him safe and from meeting Britain or Canada. He'd even sent one of his best generals to protect South, and he was glad he had since New Orleans had been attacked during that time.

"You can't," America sighed out.

"But then how do I keep you from dying!" South shouted, tears welling in his eyes once again.

America couldn't help his smile, "I'm not going to die," America promised.

America honestly wasn't sure if he would die or not without a president, but he wasn't about to let South know that. He'd felt the president die late last night and immediately had vomited into his chamber pot a good amount of blood and bile. Every cough felt like a rock was sitting on his chest and he was sure his ribs were bruised from the heaving. He definitely felt like he was dying.

South wanted to reach for America's hand, but his hands were currently occupied with the sullied cloth. He wanted reassurance that America wasn't just patronizing him.

"How do you know?" South asked in desperation.

"Because South, the president died last night. I'll get better. You remember how I get during elections?" America tried to explain his illness.

South nodded. America usually flip flopped during elections from extremely energetic to intensely lethargic and it could happen in the span of a few minutes or a few weeks. This was usually due to the undecided voters being unsure especially after a candidate finished a speech swaying voter response. It really affected the personification.

"Well, you know when I'm not feeling well?" South nodded again, "Now it's just going to get worse until the next president is sworn in. I'm not going to die."

South sniffed and nodded, "So the president is dead?" South asked in disbelief, "Why?"

"Because humans aren't like us, their life spans are short and limited to all kinds of hardship. They don't live as long as us," America explained before another violent coughing fit hit him, this one sounding as if America were attempting to expel his lung.

The door opened and South turned to see the vice president, John Tyler, come in and frown.

"South!" he exclaimed, "Come now, you shouldn't be in here seeing this."

Tyler reached forward to turn South's shoulder towards the exit and South looked up at Tyler as they left the room, "Will America be okay?" he asked in concern keeping his tears contained for the moment.

Tyler nodded solemnly, "You're needed in the oval office now, South. With America and the president both out of commission, you and I are the only ones who can do anything," Tyler explained.

A bout of fear shot through South, "But I've never done anything without America or the president!" he exclaimed.

"That's why I need to be sworn in as president. I'm on your side South. I'm a Virginian and I support states' rights. I also want Texas in the Union, so you won't have to hide them all the time," Tyler told the Southern states.

"But shouldn't we check with America first?" South asked looking worriedly over his shoulder as they made their way to the oval office.

"America needs a president or he'll die. Do you want America to die?" Tyler asked and looked at South pointedly.

They entered the office as South felt his lips quiver and his throat felt tight, "No, what do I need to do?" South asked as Tyler went to sit behind the desk.

Tyler was sworn into office and South made sure to watch over America. South took care of his older brother nursing him back to health himself while running the nation with Tyler. Soon South found running their country wasn't as hard as he thought. South figured he could do this no problem if America got sick again. Finally after a week, America could sit up again and feel a bit more like himself. South was glad, but at the same time he enjoyed the power he held. America took back over his duties and South stepped aside with no issues. He was just happy his brother would be okay.

 _1845: Texas is formally annexed_

It was rushed by the Tyler administration, but he had managed to do it. At first, when South had come forward to Congress with the documents stating Texas' annexation it had caused a political uproar. The next presidential election had even centered on whether or not to allow Texas into the union. Tyler though continued to be optimistic with South that he was going to do it.

James Polk, the newly elected president, walked in on his first day and was greeted with one of the most well kept secrets of the world.

"Who are you?" Polk asked with a confused scowl.

South turned around in surprise, "Oh, hello, Mr. President, I'm South," South introduced his accent immediately surprising the new president.

"Yes, I can detect you are from the south, but who are you and why are you in the oval office?" Polk questioned.

South stared at Polk pretty sure he had just introduced himself, "I am South. I'm here making sure the annexation of Texas is going smoothly, but it seems John managed to send the proposal off to Texas before he left," South answered giving a sure nod.

"I ran on the platform to ensure the annexation of Texas. I'll make sure it happens. I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to be here. I don't know what the last president let slide, but I'm not able to let a boy deal in confidential national secrets," Polk lectured.

"But I've always been included in the oval office," South replied in confusion.

Polk looked taken back, "Who are you?" Polk asked again for the third time when the door opened and America entered.

"Oh James, I've been looking for you!" America's loud commanding voice boomed as he settled on South.

"South? What are you doing in here?" America questioned curiously.

"I'm just excited to get to wear Texas full time! I was making sure the proposal was sent to the Houston administration," South answered with a grin.

"South, you know that's the president's job," America scolded the younger personification.

"I know, but John said he was going to send it off!" South argued.

"Did he?" America inquired also excited about gaining such a large amount of land.

"I think so," South replied, "I don't see it here, so I'm pretty sure he did."

"What is going on here!" Polk suddenly shouted gaining the attention of both personifications.

"Well, I usually do this before you meet South, but I'm America!" America announced with a grandiose gesture.

"I still see no reason for either of you to be here. Both of you are too young to even be considered for political office of this hierarchy and certainly not enough to gain clearance to the oval office," Polk replied finally appearing to have his feathers ruffled.

"Maybe you've heard of me by my alias, Alfred F. Jones," America attempted to smooth other Polk's slight frustration.

Polk frowned. He had heard of an Alfred F. Jones that was based in the White House, but whenever anyone questioned anything on him no one ever seemed to know who he was. The only thing he knew was that Alfred F. Jones was a powerful government figure.

"I have heard that name before, but that doesn't explain what's going on here," Polk continued.

"I am your country, Mr. President. I am the embodiment of the United States of America," America finally let the cat out of the bag.

This made Polk raise his eye brows and mouth open in surprise, "Do what now?" he questioned as if he had heard wrong.

"And I'm the Southern United States! But I just like to be called South," South introduced with a smile.

"This is utter nonsense!" Polk exclaimed and shook his head.

America sighed, "Mary Grace!" he called loudly his voice grating on every nerve Polk had.

An older maid came rushing into the room and gave America a glare, "Mr. America! You can't just shout like that for me when you feel like it. I do have other duties to tend to," Mary Grace lectured the country.

"Mary Grace, what am I?" America asked.

Mary Grace frowned, "You're America," she replied in confusion.

"How long have I been here?" America questioned.

"Well, as long as I can remember," Mary Grace answered, "America-"

America interrupted her, "And how long have you been here?" America continued his interrogation.

Mary Grace finally caught on to what America was doing. He'd used her for this before.

"Forty three years, sir," she answered and before America could ask the next question she went ahead and answered it, "And you have not aged a single day since I began working at age fifteen."

"What about me!" South piped up.

Mary Grace rolled her eyes fondly and smiled, "You've grown. I think you might have hit a bit of a growth spurt. Remember when we used to play together with your soldiers?" the old maid questioned.

South smiled remembering the young maid when she had started. She had been older than him physically at the time, but now she was well his senior when it came to physicality.

"Yeah, but I'm growing up now!" South declared to a laughing Mary Grace.

Polk had watched the entire exchange with a shocked expression. He shot a glance over to America, who looked at the president smugly. If what this maid was saying was true, then that meant there were personifications of other nations as well. It was hard to believe, but Polk couldn't explain it.

"Alright, America, I believe you. Let's get started then shall we?" Polk said with a shaky smile.

Polk made sure the Texas annexation went through and finally South was allowed to wear his glasses full time. He could now see everything in crystal clarity. America found himself happy that his brother could now wear Texas whenever he wanted, but at the same time he was concerned of South gaining any more popularity with slavery. It became the least of his worries when he met the personification of Mexico for the first time.

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 **Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to leave a review or favorite/follow! I enjoy all of them.**

 **Reminder: I update every Thursday! Though today I think I actually updated in the early morning hours of Friday. :P**


	7. Chapter 7

**Welcome back! Chapter fourteen is still on** **hiatus, but I plan to start it over the holidays. I'm hoping to go into over drive and manage to type out a couple of chapters during Christmas and New Years.**

 **Huge thanks to everyone who favorited/followed!**

 **Special thanks to my reviewer, ElricGurl the Hetalian: I needed to have a fun chapter thrown in to show that they do get along sometimes. I'll have to try this documentary out. What I've concluded in my own random knowledge is that the panhandle of Florida is more southern, but the peninsula is more aligned with northern views. Happy Birthday! I hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for your support!**

 **If my history is wrong, please let me know and I'll correct it next author's note.**

 **Disclaimer: I do now own Hetalia.**

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 **Chapter 7: Mexican-American War 1846-1848**

Mexico had traveled a long way to the capital of the United States and he had not been impressed by the journey. As he stepped out of his carriage, he looked up at the White House with an air of aloofness. So this is where America lived. He did not expect to be greeted with an angry teenager storming out of the building. Mexico usually didn't bother with humans especially Americans, but he noticed what belonged to him sitting on the teen's face.

"Senor, excuse me!" Mexico called out to the boy.

He stopped and looked at Mexico in confusion, "Yes sir?" he answered questionable in the Southern accent Mexico had become accustomed to before crossing into the North.

"Where did you get such a nice set of spectacles?" Mexico asked.

The American blinked before responding, "My brother gave them to me," he answered and suddenly looked as if he wanted to run back into the White House.

"Were you aware they were stolen?" Mexico inquired with a bit of anger in his tone.

How dare America steal his land and then have the nerve to give it to a human child unless he was speaking to America himself. He hadn't even considered that the first American he came across would be the personification of America.

"Who are you?" the boy demanded with a frown.

Mexico didn't answer and reached desperately for the glasses on the boy's face to which the American responded by promptly punching the living daylights out of Mexico. Mexico could feel the swelling on his cheek from the force behind the punch. There was no doubt about it now. This had to be America.

"How dare you steal from me, America?" Mexico asserted rearing back and returning the hit.

South was hit directly on his nose. The sickening sound of the scrunching of cartilage filled the air and the people who had been walking by now watched as the young Mexico picked a fight with South over his glasses. Humans began to gossip over the altercation happening outside their president's home.

"Ow!" South cried out and held his nose that now bled profusely and tears of pain leaked from South's eyes before they were filled with rage.

"I am not America!" South declared vehemently and proceeded to tackle Mexico to the ground.

Mexico had not expected either things to happen, for the teen to attack him or that he was not America. Confusion and the adrenaline to fight surged in the Mexican as the American centered above him wailed on him with repeated blows. Mexico could only defend himself.

"South!" a voice shouted in a frightened tone.

Mexico found himself freed of the beatings as the teen looked towards the voice. Mexico saw this as his lucky break. Mexico landed one good hit to the temple knocking out his opponent. Mexico grabbed Texas off the boy's face in triumph. The newcomer ran down the steps instantly beside the adolescent's side.

"South! South!" he shouted before turning angry eyes to Mexico.

"What did you do?" he questioned harshly before spotting the glasses in Mexico's hands, "And why do you have my brother's glasses?"

Mexico began connecting the dots then. The youth, South, had said his brother had given him the glasses, and the newcomer was an exact replica of his attacker. This was America then. Mexico looked at the unconscious body noting that this was another country of some sort, but he didn't recognize South as one he knew. Was this a personification of Texas?

"These are mine," Mexico stated with an air of superiority.

America's eyes hardened, "Who are you?" America asked anger simmering under the words.

"Mexico, not that it's your business," Mexico answered and turned to get into his carriage when he was gripped by his bicep.

"Let go!" Mexico demanded and attempted to rip his arm out of America's hold, but the grip was too strong.

"You're going to pay for hurting my little brother," America growled and pulled Mexico around before slamming his elbow into Mexico's stomach.

Mexico dropped the glasses and fell forward trying to regain his breath. He hadn't expected America to be stronger than him. America picked up the glasses before slamming his foot back into Mexico's stomach. The Central American nation attempted once again to gain his breath back.

"Go back to your lands and tell your boss that this is war. No one hurts my brother and gets away with it," America declared turning away from Mexico.

Mexico coughed and managed to return to his carriage. He hadn't expected there to be two Americas and he certainly hadn't expected for them both to be equally stronger than him. This had been a mistake. He shouldn't have labeled his anti-war supporters traitors. They may have been right all along.

America watched the carriage ride away before he looked to his unconscious brother lying in the dirt. He sighed a feeling of guilt in his chest. Perhaps if they hadn't been arguing, South wouldn't have ended up fighting with Mexico, which was the last person America expected to find on his door step. America placed Texas back on South's face before picking up his brother and took him back into the White House. South's nose bled onto his sleeves, but it was about time for America to dispose of this suit anyways. It was nearly a decade old.

South stirred in his arms as America struggled to open doors with his hands full.

"America?" South blinked up at him, "What happened?"

"No worries, as a hero I did my heroic duty and saved you," America replied.

South rolled his eyes, "I had it under control until you distracted me," South contradicted, "Let me down."

America scowled, "You could have a concussion. What were you even thinking fighting another nation like that?" America went into parental mode.

South sighed as America managed to get South to his room, "I didn't start it! He tried to take my glasses!" South defended himself before catching up with America's words, "Another nation?"

America laid South in his bed and reached to grab a cloth off the nightstand and held it to South's nose. South hissed in discomfort and grabbed the cloth from America batting America's worried hand away earning a disapproving grunt from his older brother.

"Yup, Mexico, remember, he earned his independence a couple of decades ago," America shook his head as South held the cloth to his nose, "You're going to have to straighten it out so it heals correctly," America chided.

South's eyes widened in fear, "What do you mean straighten it out?" South asked weakly.

America spent the remainder of the evening with South screaming and trying to adjust his nose back into a straight line. Finally America called in a surgeon, who helped America set South's nose and bandage it. During that time bruising slowly became evident. America, when South had finally been tended to, left his brother to sleep the pain away and allowed his anger to consume him. How dare Mexico show up at his place and hurt his brother?

"James!" America called for his president, James K. Polk.

Polk answered him from the oval office where he was working a late night, "Yes, America?" he answered not expecting his country to come in glowering.

Polk frowned, "What's wrong, another argument with South?" Polk asked.

"Not this time. I need to declare war on Mexico," America declared.

Polk straightened up immediately, "What happened?" he questioned in shock.

"Mexico came here and hurt South trying to get Texas back. He claimed that I stole it from him, so now I'm going to take his western territories to settle the debt," America explained.

The president stared for a moment before leaping into action, "Of course, I already have the armies on standby in Texas. I'll send a courier tonight to instruct them to begin the attack," Polk replied.

America cocked his head to the side and couldn't help the smile on his face, "You wanted to go to war with Mexico," America accused.

Polk returned the smile, "I did run on a Manifest Destiny platform. Besides wouldn't it be nice to see your borders extend from one end of the continent to the other?" Polk replied.

America felt excitement expand in his breast, "Yeah that sounds awesome!" America exclaimed in delight.

 _Battle of Palo Alto_

South's nose had healed up quickly and he had been anxious to get west to start participating in the war against Mexico, but America had given him a hard time. America wanted him to stay in Washington and advise Polk while America went to fight with General Taylor. South disputed this hard claiming he had more right than America since he was defending the South. After a loud argument, America finally relented, so here he was lying under a poorly constructed tent next to his brother. America snored unperturbed by the fact he was in the middle of war.

South couldn't sleep. He sat up and maneuvered away from America and outside. There he could see the morning sun just beginning to peak over the horizon. Two men were already awake and whispering in deep discussion. South walked up to them curiously. They stopped talking instantly and looked at him. Both of them studied him just as curiously.

"Aren't you a little young to be out here?" the younger of the two men questioned casually.

South smiled, "My brother argued the same thing," South stuck his hand out, "I'm William Jones."

"Lt. Ulysses Grant," the man answered friendly and shook South's hand before he frowned, "Strong grip there son."

South beamed, "I get that a lot," he answered before extending it to the other man.

"General Zachary Taylor," Taylor introduced shaking his hand and frowned just as Grant had, "No kidding on that grip."

South's eyes widened. He hadn't met the general yet. He had just arrived with America at Fort Texas only yesterday. America had rode forward on his horse and handed Taylor a note from the White House and Taylor had been shocked and talked with America before America came and fetched South. The next thing South knew they had pitched a tent and America had gone to sleep leaving South awake and bored.

"I see you've met my younger brother," America's obvious tone called out.

All three of them turned towards the nation, "Ah, Captain Jones, so this is your brother?" Taylor looked from America to South.

South smiled, "Yes sir," he answered proudly.

"What's going on?" America questioned.

"I was just talking with the lieutenant here to let him know I was going up to Fort Polk for some supplies. I could use your assistance if you'd like to accompany me," Taylor replied with an expectant look.

America thought for a moment before nodding, "Sure, I'd like to get a look at Fort Polk," America said with a smile.

"Awesome! When are we leaving?" South asked excitedly.

America smirked down at his Southern states, "You are staying here," America informed the younger personification.

"Sir?" South spoke the words in surprise.

"You heard me," America smirked, "You're a soldier now. You remember what it means being a soldier?"

America was referring to the times he'd stuck by America in the War of 1812, "But I stayed with you the whole time before you sent me to meet with Andrew," South protested referring to Andrew Jackson in New Orleans.

"You were younger then," America pointed out, "You're older now and it's time for you to learn that you can be by yourself."

South stared at America with wide eyes, "But America!" he argued.

"No buts mister. Stay here and that's final," America declared.

South argued with America the entire duration America was getting ready to leave with Taylor. The younger personification just knew America was punishing him for wanting to come to war with him. South watched them leave with carriages and men to bring back supplies. He sighed and looked over to Grant, who gave South a sympathetic smile.

"I remember when my dad finally gave me the 'it's time to be a man speech'," Grant comforted South, "Don't worry, I'll look out for you."

It took about a day after America left for the sound of cannon fire to startle South from his work of gathering wood and natural resources. He turned just in time to watch a cannon ball smash into the dirt a few yards right of him. He jumped and ran to the fort where he banded with the military there and assisted in the best way he could, which meant grabbing a musket and shooting. South felt his heart beat fast and his palms grow moist. This wasn't like the skirmishes of the last war. He'd had America with him.

"Did you hear that?" America questioned as he turned on his horse to look back the way they came.

Smoke rose in the air from the exact direction Fort Texas was, where America had left South. Taylor turned to see the same thing America was.

"We still must get the supplies and reinforcements. We must continue," Taylor replied seeing what America wanted written on his face.

America gritted his teeth, but he knew Taylor was right. South could be harmed in the battle behind America, but in the end South couldn't permanently die unless his country was dissolved. However, that wasn't happening since South was part of America, but America did not want South to experience the pain of death. Dying was never easy and usually the country took a huge hit like the loss of land, demoralization of the people, or recession, and coming back to life was a burning hell of pain. America did not want the South to experience any of those things. Currently, the Southern economy was the fourth largest economy in the world, and America couldn't afford to lose that, but it also made South extremely strong. It would take more than Mexico to bring South down. America trusted South.

"Look out!" a body barreled into South's.

South looked up to see Grant on top of him and felt the dirt sprayed by the bullet meant for him.

"Be careful or you'll get yourself killed!" Grant shouted and took a pistol from his holster and shot at the Mexican offensive.

"Sorry!" South shouted and hid behind the barricade constructed for the fort.

"I said I'd look out for you," Grant stated and pushed himself up making himself vulnerable and shot at the enemy.

"Thank you," South thanked before continuing the battle.

The siege had lasted a long few days before Taylor had come with reinforcements and won by a landslide against the Mexicans. Once the battle was finished America ran full force into Fort Texas, his eyes wild and on the search for his Southern states.

"South!" he called out momentarily too panicked to remember to call his alias.

"Alfred!" America felt a relief settle in his chest as his eyes spotted the younger personification.

There he saw Grant wrapping a dirty cloth around a graze on South's lower right side. America frowned and scanned his younger brother for further injury. Aside from a lot of dirt and a few scrapes from falling or ducking on his knees and elbows, South seemed fine. Grant stepped back as America hugged South tightly.

"America," South grounded out through clenched teeth from embarrassment and a slight pain.

"I was worried about you!" America exclaimed still not letting South go.

"He did fine, Captain," Grant stated earning America's eyes, "Fought bravely. He's a true American, this one."

America gave South an impressed look as South beamed under the praise. America let him go before closing his eyes and letting out a heavy sigh.

"You did good, little bro, you did good," America said making South smile proudly.

Eventually, the war came to a close in 1848 and America did as he said he would. He made sure Mexico would not bother the United States or his brother again. America also made sure to take a lot of the west forcing Mexico to cession what would later become California, Nevada, Utah, Arizona, and New Mexico. This made America stronger now that his borders reached from the Atlantic Ocean all the way to the Pacific.

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 **Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to leave a review or follow/favorite! I love every bit of support.**

 **I update every Thursday!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Welcome back guys!**

 **Huge thanks to my favorites/follows! You guys rock!**

 **Special thanks to my reviewer, ElricGurl the Hetalian: You are correct! We did agree to pay Mexico 15 million! I thought it was interesting how 15 million seems to be the go to number for the United States since the USA also paid 15 million for the Louisiana Purchase. I even have half of a one shot about how Britain asks America what his favorite number is and he says 15 million. lol I had planned to write out the Treaty of Guadalalupe Hidalgo as part of chapter 7, but the chapter was already so long I just wrote what the treaty did instead. At this point in time, it's unsurprising that the United States has been at war so much. I have read articles on how America is considered the "police" of the world. They should pop up if you google it. It's interesting. Thanks for your support!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

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 **Chapter 8: The Compromise of 1850**

 _Taylor elected president, 1849_

"Welcome President Zachary Taylor! We've already met, but now I don't have to hide behind my human name. I'm the personification of the United States of America!" Alfred Jones had introduced enthusiastically.

Newly elected war hero Zachary Taylor stared in slack jawed shock. When he had received the letter from President Polk during the Mexican-American War from the man now before him, it had stated Captain Alfred Jones Jr was the son of the war hero from the War of 1812, Major General Alfred F. Jones. Regardless of the elder Jones' success though, it appeared the name had been erased from history, but Taylor had idolized him in the War of 1812 and was honored to fight with his son. Taylor understood why now.

America's smile waned, "I know it's a bit of a shock," the nation broke the awkward silence.

"You and the Major General Jones from the War of 1812 are-," America interrupted Taylor.

"The same person? Yup! I've fought in almost every major war in my history!" America grinned at Taylor.

Taylor stared still in disbelief, "How old are you?" he asked in surprise.

America made a thinking sound, "Well, Britain and France found me back in the 1600s sometime when I was a kid… but my birthday is July 4 1776, so I'd say a couple of decades from a hundred," America answered unsurely.

"Are you human?" Taylor questioned next as he studied America, "You don't age?"

America laughed, "No, dude, I haven't moved from this age in a long time, but I am human for all intents and purposes I suppose. Just that if something happens in the nation like inflation, recession, war, it affects my health, and I can be killed by bullets, knives, the works, but I'll come back to life," America explained.

Taylor nodded as if he understood, but his mind was a whirlwind of chaos. What had he gotten into when he let those Whigs politicians talk him into running? Then his mind went to another soldier he'd met.

"What about your brother is he like you?" Taylor questioned remembering the younger almost twin of America from the Mexican American War.

"Oh, yeah, South!" America called then looked at Taylor and warned him, "We've been fighting a lot lately. Try not to mention slavery."

The doors to the oval office opened up and there stood the boy, William Jones, untouched by age still looking as young as he had when Taylor had first met him. He was tanner than America with sun bleached hair and glasses, but otherwise could pass as America. South smiled warmly at Taylor, but glared at America. America gave Taylor a 'see what I mean' look.

"Hello Mr. President, I'm the Southern United States, but I prefer to just be called South. A nice southerner such as yourself should do well here," South introduced himself with a nod and smirk.

Once again South had pulled out his southern gentleman attitude reminding America of Britain with his passive aggressiveness. South even had the same hair color as Britain and America wouldn't be surprised if South suddenly grew those massive brows. The scariest part of it all was that South had never met Britain or any of the European nations.

America gave an annoyed huff well aware that South had been glad the new president was a southern slave owner. His brother could even strike a nerve like Britain could. Sometimes it felt as if America were parenting a little clone of his previous caretaker.

"Thanks," Taylor said unsurely realizing he'd been patronizing a boy that was probably the same age as him.

"If that'll be all, I'll be in my room," South dismissed himself and turned on his heel to leave.

When the doors shut, America groaned and rolled his eyes, "We're kinda in the middle of a fight right now over the new land," America explained.

Taylor frowned prompting America to elaborate, "See I'm anti-slavery, and obviously South is pro-slavery. I made a deal with South not long ago when Missouri and Maine entered the Union that all states below the southern Missouri border could have slavery, but that was before I got this land. He wants to cite our agreement as reason to allow slavery in future territories, but I don't agree. I think slavery is wrong Mr. President," America explained and Taylor looked away uncomfortably.

"Why not just find a way to allow some free and some slave states, so you both are happy?" Taylor questioned not wanting to offend his country.

America frowned, "I'll think about it," he responded.

Taylor didn't get to be president long. He died of a stomach virus not long after he had begun his term. Briefly America and South had reconciled their differences while America recovered from the death of his president and during that time South had taken control of the government until the vice president, Millard Fillmore, had taken over the presidency.

 _The Compromise of 1850_

"I'll do it this time, America, I swear before God himself, I will leave and make my own country!" South shouted furiously as anger driven tears ran down his cheeks.

The entire White House had been on edge for a while and finally it seemed to be bubbling over. America was tired of South giving him the silent treatment and continually keeping the Wilmot Proviso from being passed. America was the nation of the United States and South was a part of him and did not make the decisions. South had to follow his rules, so South had stayed angry at him ever since the end of the war with Mexico.

America felt both anger and fear invade his emotions. South needed America and America needed South. South couldn't leave America. America loved him even if they disagreed on slavery.

America laughed bitterly, "Have you forgotten or do I need to remind you, you are mine! You are part of me! You would never make it without me!" America hollered equally as passionate with his own upset tears.

South gnashed his teeth together, "You keep this up and I won't be! I'll show you how to be a real country! I already have one of the largest economies in the world! You're just scared I'll realize I'm better off without you!" America could feel the seriousness in South's words and could almost feel South splitting from him.

America's eyes narrowed in fury, "I am only doing what's best for you, for us! Why don't you just listen to me!" America roared and began to pace to unleash some of his anger physically while trying to resist punching and destroying something.

"Why is it always what's best for us? I am different than you America! I produce cotton and who do you think picks the cotton? I'll give you a hint. It's the one thing you're trying to take away! Slaves pick the cotton, America! How do you think I'm so strong? Do you want me to lose everything?" South argued as America shouted insults towards his brother, but South only yelled over America's shouts.

"So what? You trade your soul for free labor and money? That is not how the Constitution works!" America asked waiting pointedly on South's response.

"This is how it's always been!" South shrieked, "Why do you want to change it now!"

America yelled indistinctly and ran both his hands down his face forcefully in an effort not to strangle his younger brother. This argument was literally running in circles. South glared at him through his lenses, but the furious tears made it seem less threatening.

"I've always been trying to change it ever since I earned my independence!" America refuted.

"Boys please!" a newcomer suddenly shouted interrupting South before he could release another enraged sentence.

The two personifications looked to see Senator Henry Clay standing there, a long time presidential candidate, but never actually managed to grab office. Clay was standing tall despite his age and looked every bit like a parent about to scold their fighting children. Clay had a long standing history keeping the two from wanting to bite the other's head off and solving their issues at least temporarily.

"That is enough! The entire city of Washington has endured your bickering for long enough!" Clay berated them.

Both of the boys stared at Clay as if the man was insane, "America sit there, and South you sit on the opposite side," Clay referred to the parallel love seats that faced each other with a coffee table between them.

South sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve before doing as he was told while America still stared at Clay.

"Are you serious? You're going to try to get us to talk it out again? It doesn't work Henry! He's too stubborn," America began to stomp towards the exit

"America!" Clay called harshly and America stopped and closed his eyes tightly in frustration, "You will sit down with me and South and we are going to settle this dispute. I will not watch the Union tear itself apart."

Clay was right, unfortunately. If South decided he wanted to be a country, America could probably easily bring his younger brother back into the Union, but if America could fix it to where South wouldn't leave in the first place America needed to do it. He couldn't risk Britain getting wind that America had failed to keep himself together, literally. America sat down where directed.

"What are the issues?" Clay asked as he stood at the head of the two couches and watched the two.

South popped off before America could respond, " _He_ keeps trying to push the Wilmot Proviso because clearly he doesn't respect his own word even when it's written right here that states under the Missouri line can be slave states which includes the new territories," South explained.

"First off, some of Texas' land does fall above the line meaning it should be free. Secondly, Texas is too big to be considered one state," America stated smugly.

"But the majority of it is below the line!" South disputed.

"Okay!" Clay exclaimed before America could chime in, "What if we give the land above the line to the unorganized territory, and we take some of its land and give it to the New Mexico territory," Clay suggested neutrally.

"No," South said firmly just as America nodded disagreeing with South.

Clay sighed, "How about America forgives Texas' debt as a show of good faith for giving up the land?" Clay compromised.

South's lips tightened as if he wanted to disagree, but America looked at him hopefully. South felt as if he was getting the short end of the stick here, so he decided to try and sweeten the deal since it seemed debt forgiveness was on the table.

"That's good, but I also want a stricter policing on returning the runaway slaves to their owners. Harriet Tubman and her irritating railroads have been causing too much trouble," South advised.

Now America was pissed, "No freaking way. Not going to happen, little bro," America threw his hands up in the air.

South looked at Clay pointedly, "See? He's selfish! He doesn't care how it affects me as long as he gets what he wants!" South mocked America by throwing his arms in the air in a similar fashion.

Before America could respond, Clay held up a hand silencing America, who made a disgruntled noise, but stayed silent.

"Okay, okay, let's calm down. We can make do with that," America was about to protest, but Clay threw his silencing hand up again.

Clay thought for a long minute before coming to a conclusion, "I can do that, however, you must allow California to enter the Union as a free state in exchange. I believe that is an equal trade," America's eyes widened as if he had won the jackpot.

South glared and looked as if he had eaten something sour, "But the other territories can be slave states?" South asked in suspicion.

Clay shook his head before thinking of a solution on the spot, "We'll let the people of those regions decide," Clay announced neutrally.

South nodded and America watched his younger brother. If California entered the union as a free state that would be a huge deal. It could set the precedence for the remaining future states to be anti-slavery. South seemed to be thinking it over hard his face scrunched up in thought.

"Okay," South finally managed after an agonizingly long five minutes.

"Can I at least ban the slave trade in Washington? If I can't get rid of it all together, at least let me have my capital," America begged staring hard at South.

South felt a feeling of guilt force his head to nod in agreement. South could give America that. After all, South did love America even though his big brother wanted to take away his livelihood. They were both making sacrifices here. Giving up California to be a free state left a bad taste in South's mouth, but it was all the way on the other side of the continent. It couldn't affect things too much.

America gave a relieved sighed and stood. He opened his arms wide and invited South for a hug. South still felt bitter towards America for trying to get rid of slavery all together in the west, but he allowed himself to be hugged anyways. After all, South didn't really want to be his own country, did he?

The Compromise of 1850 was passed and it managed to mend some of the issues South and America had, but it didn't smooth over things completely. They still fought sometimes, but at least now they could manage to have a civil conversation and sit in the same room.

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 **Thanks for reading! Feel free to review/favorite/follow! I love every one!**

 **I update every Thursday/super early Friday morning! lol**


	9. Chapter 9

**Welcome back guys!**

 **Huge thanks to everyone who favorited/followed! I love you guys!**

 **Special thanks to my reviewer, ElricGurl the Hetalian: The South did begin the Civil War, but this is due to Lincoln sending reinforcements to Fort Sumter prompting Southerners to believe the US was preparing for war. South was totally baited. The Antebellum era of the American South was based on an aristocracy. This means the wealthy class was the ruling class. While many southerners did not own slaves, the ones who did made the decisions. It's nice to know your own ancestral history like that! I wish my own history was as clean as yours. Yes, the South did have to go through Reconstruction, a very difficult time for the South and the USA. I love your comments! Thanks for your support!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

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 **Chapter Nine: Kansas-Nebraska Act**

 _March 1852, Uncle Tom's Cabin_

South's brother had waltzed in holding a book and raving about its contents prompting South to see what it was all about. He went out and bought a copy for himself and after reading only half of the book threw it with force against the wall of the parlor as a flurry of paper exploded everywhere. He then stomped down the White House steps and walked his way across to the Capital where he knew America would be. He found America in the middle of a Senate meeting, so stowing his fury for the moment South sat in on the meeting.

When it ended, South glared at his brother as he shook hands and spoke merrily with his government. South stood up with an air of superiority about him. He crossed the chamber with purpose and America's eyes widened when he saw South coming at him.

America knew South was angry the moment he laid eyes on him across the room. South rarely came to senate meetings unless it involved slavery. He was always in attendance for those much to America's annoyance. America truly did not want to argue in the middle of the Senate, but it looked like he wouldn't have a choice.

"What possessed you to allow such defilement to be published?" South demanded in a hissed whisper.

The remaining members of congress stopped what they were doing or hurried out of the room before the argument began. Alfred F Jones and his brother William Jones were well known in Congress for their intense debates over slavery. Most of them gave a heavy sigh muttering among themselves.

America blinked, "What?" he questioned.

" _Uncle Tom's Cabin_?" South gritted out.

America shook his head, "I can't control the will of the people. You should know that better than most," America replied his face stony.

South let lose a frustrated sigh before shoving America. America stumbled in surprise and hurt as South turned and left the chamber. South had never actually laid hands on America before and America stared after the door before he ran after his Southern half. He saw his back as he walked down the hallway. America needed to inflict the same hurt on South that he had inflicted on America.

"Since when does a Southern gentleman push his brother and walk away?" America called after him scathingly.

South stopped walking and turned around to glare. He looked as if he wanted to say something back or come back to fight America, but the personification simply turned away without a word and left. America punched the wall leaving a huge hole. The members of the government let loose surprised shouts.

Later that night America was reading in his bed when the door creaked open. South's head popped into his room and America stared at him in surprise. His brother was the last person he expected to be knocking on his door considering how much they hadn't been able to get along and the fight they had earlier that day in the Senate chamber.

"What's up?" America asked tiredly expecting an attack.

South sighed, "I'm sorry for earlier," he apologized but looked as if someone had made him do it.

America wouldn't be surprised if the president had gotten wind of their disagreement and made his Southern little brother apologize.

"Do you mean that?" America questioned suspiciously.

South's eyes focused on the floor, "Don't make this more difficult than it has to be. I'm just upset with this book and its popularity. I took it out on you and I'm sorry. I did not handle it like a gentleman should," South responded.

"Apology accepted. Sometimes the will of the people can overwhelm us as personifications. I know for a fact that the Southern states are burning multiple copies of this book in anger. It makes sense you'd be affected," America shrugged.

South's eyes softened, "Thanks America," he said.

America smiled, "No problem, bro. You're new. I know it's hard to deal with sometimes. If anything, I handled it worse than you did. I should have known better. I'm your older brother," America replied.

South stepped into the room and crawled onto the opposite side of the bed, "I know. I just hate us fighting so much, but I just feel so controlled," South confided.

America froze and his breath stopped. He'd been in this conversation before a long time ago nearly a century with Britain right before the Revolutionary War. America couldn't go through this with South like Britain had with him.

South had no idea why America had paled then come to a complete stand still. America's book fell forward onto his chest and he rubbed the bridge of his nose before letting a stress filled sigh emit from his lips.

"America?" South questioned curiously unsure what had caused the sudden reaction.

"South," America began heavily, "I know sometimes you feel like you're your own country but you're not, and this means you are under my control. I've been lenient with you because I didn't want you to feel oppressed, but when push comes to shove you are part of the United States."

South was quiet for a long moment, "Yeah," he answered sounding far away before climbing off the bed and leaving the room.

"Goodnight America," South called.

"Goodnight South," America answered.

America had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

 _1854, Kansas Nebraska Act_

America was pissed. He knew South had to be behind this somehow. The moment he'd heard about the Kansas-Nebraska Act he'd nearly vomited on command. The very idea of repealing the Missouri Compromise after South so vehemently defended it was irony in its finest form. America burst into South's room startling the boy who was reading _The Cabin and the Parlor_ while relaxing on his bed.

"America!" South shouted staring at his brother wide-eyed.

"Tell me what you know about the Kansas-Nebraska Act," America demanded in a hard tone.

South frowned, "Only that Stephan Douglas was trying to pass it, so I gave him some tips on the best way to go about it," South replied innocently.

America gritted his teeth, "And let me guess that included completely bypassing the Missouri Compromise you agreed on in 1820?" America questioned caustically.

South shrugged, "He wants the Southern vote. Mr. Douglas really wants his transcontinental railroad and I thought it would be a good idea for us to have one," South answered.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?!" America shouted pulling at his hair in anger, "This is ruining the Whig party and the Democratic party is going to split! My two-party system is going haywire right now and it's all your fault!"

America pointed his finger at South. South glared at his brother before he replied.

"It's not my fault. This is your government after all," South scoffed.

America wanted to punch his brother. He turned on his heel and slammed South's door closed rattling the entire frame. South felt a churning in his stomach over America's sudden anger. He'd not seen America that angry in a long time.

The next time the two brothers saw each other it was in a cabinet meeting with the president and his secretaries. Most of the cabinet was aware of whom America and South were, but some were not as the cabinet debate grew heated. Members that knew what was going on stared at the president imploringly to stop the two personifications.

"I don't see why we couldn't just repeal it," South sighed out in reference to the Missouri Compromise and stared at America unimpressed.

"You don't know what you're talking about. If you repeal that, do you know the kind of turmoil you'll send us into?" America questioned scathingly.

"Boys," Franklin Pierce, the president, hissed loudly bringing the attention back to the president.

The president stood silent for a long moment considering kicking the two personifications out of the room, but afraid their argument would escalate outside the office. He had the bridge of his nose pinched as he sighed and went back to going over the Kansas Nebraska Act with the cabinet. It was decided that in order to satisfy everyone they would attempt to rule the Missouri Compromise unconstitutional. America was still not happy with the result of the meeting. He stomped out not even looking back.

South attempted on multiple accounts to try and have a meal with his brother or at least feel the closeness he once held with him, but America remained closed off until the Kansas-Nebraska Act went to the Senate. America was truly upset with South attempting to undermine him and allow slavery above the Missouri line.

"As I keep stating and will continue to state," the young physically sixteen year old personification began, "We should just repeal it."

"And let you continue to push slavery down our throats? No way," America shook his head vocalizing loudly his opinion.

A few Northern senators voiced their agreement. The gavel hit the desk at the front of the room gaining all attention. Stephan Douglas looked tired and ready to strangle the next person who argued about his bill. He gave a heavy sigh.

"I propose then we split the territory into two, Nebraska and Kansas. This way there is a chance for both a free and a slave state to enter the Union under popular sovereignty. Now with this compromise can we repeal the Missouri Compromise?" Douglas sounded tired.

America crossed his arms feeling like his hands were tied before looking over at his brother and seeing the hopeful look in his eyes and sighed. He hated fighting. He truly did, but he was tired of compromise after compromise with his brother. Sometimes he even wished South hadn't been born at all, which was terrible, and every time he thought it he felt guilty. He hadn't wanted to see South at all while he had these thoughts.

A lot of the Senators mumbled to each other before finally a few of them nodded. It seemed reasonable enough. America gave a nod of his head in agreement. He had no idea that he'd just agreed to one of the major attributes to losing his younger brother. America thought he was protecting South.

The meeting ended and South stood at the door waiting on America. America glared and kept his head down to prevent eye contact.

"America, wait, please," South begged softly.

America stopped his mind remembering the younger version of his brother, the one who had begged for New Orleans and didn't fight with America, the South that had looked up to America and fought side by side with him. It made his chest hurt remembering. What was happening to them?

"America, I just wanted to say, thank you," South told his older brother.

America's eyes popped open and he stared at South.

South's lips thinned, "I've been a real sorry brother here lately. I just want to spend time with you again," South told him.

America gave a heavy sigh, "You're getting too ambitious, South, and maybe it's my fault for it. I've spoiled you. I let you have this, but I'm not going to compromise anymore. Things are going to get stricter," America warned the teenager.

South stared at America hard for a long uncomfortable moment. The words had angered the Southern states. He'd come with offerings of peace and America berated him again.

"Why are you doing this? I waited on you because I missed you!" America winced at the tone, but stayed firm with his words.

"Because these are words you need to hear. There will be no more compromises. You will listen to me from now on. You are a part of the United States of America. You are not your own nation," America replied.

South's face was beginning to turn red in anger before he muttered under his breath, "Just forget it," and turned to leave.

America felt guilt worm its way through his chest and he grabbed South by the wrist, "Wait!" he exclaimed, "Wanna have a picnic outside the White House like old times?"

South stared at America in shock before answering, "I think I can manage that," South replied and America smiled.

No matter how many times he wished South away he knew he never meant it. South may continually push his buttons, infuriate him like no one else, and disagree with everything America stood for, but deep down America loved his brother regardless of everything. If he ever lost South, he would be absolutely devastated.

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 **Thanks for reading! I'm open to all reviews/favorites/follows!**

 **I update every Thursday!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Welcome back!**

 **Huge thanks to all who follow and favorite! I love those notifications!**

 **Special thanks to my reviewer: ElricGurl the Hetalian: It's never easy to be the responsible one. It's hard to be the one to have to back down especially when its America the older vs America the younger AKA South. Both are hard headed and set in their beliefs. America has a hard time controlling South because America doesn't want to hurt him like Britain did to America when America was growing up. It's a case of I'll never do what my mother/father did to me to my kid type deal. America's figuring out that by letting South have his way he's letting South control him. I'm glad you enjoy the story! I was also unaware that there was a city in Michigan called Hell. That's a fun fact to know! lol Thanks for your support!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

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 **Chapter Ten: Fugitive Slave Act and Senate Beatings**

 _1854, Anthony Burns_

"He is a slave and you made it law to have slaves returned to their owners!" South declared vehemently.

America and South were currently arguing over the fate of a runaway slave, Anthony Burns, in the oval office with the president. The arrest had caused a huge stir in the Northern part of the United States and currently had abolitionists up in arms. America was hurting over the entire affair.

"Do you not see what is going on in Boston! Can't you see how much this affects me!" America shouted and let lose hacking coughs.

America was physically sick over the entire event.

"No, America, the Fugitive Slave Act must be enforced. We agreed on it. If we let one go, then eventually they'll all expect to be let go. I can't America!" South explained.

South really did hate to see his brother sick, but he couldn't allow a runaway slave freedom. Anthony Burns had to be returned to his owner.

"He's right, America," Franklin Pierce agreed with South.

"Fuck you, Pierce, all you've done is become a puppet for the South!" America spat angrily.

Both South and Pierce looked at America in shock. South had never seen America so angry at one of his presidents before. America was breathing hard and felt as if he was losing control over his own country and his brother was taking over. Anger over this thought caused his explosion. He was America. South should follow him, but South was right. America had signed the Fugitive Slave Act during the Compromise of 1850. America ran a defeated palm down his face.

"Just do what needs to be done," he muttered angrily breaking the uncomfortable silence and leaving the room.

Burns was returned to his owner. America got sicker before he got better. South attempted to take care of his older brother, but America would only tell him to leave. South felt guilty and wanted to make amends with America.

"America," South called hopefully into the room as he carried a bowl of broth he'd made himself.

America didn't answer him and had his back turned to him as he recovered in his bed. South opened the door completely then looked at the empty whisky bottle in the floor next to the bed. South felt an emotional pang at the sight knowing he was the cause of this.

South sighed, "Please America," South begged walking forward and setting the broth on the night stand.

"Just leave me alone," America told South in an obvious drunken slur.

"America, stop acting like a child," South patronized his older brother.

"How is it you act just like him?" America asked suddenly startling the Southern states as America flipped and hazy drunken eyes glared at him.

"I beg your pardon?" South questioned with wide eyes.

"I raised you, not him! You've never even met him!" America declared loudly.

"America," South said softly, "You're drunk. You don't know what you're talking about."

America slammed a fist onto the bed, "To hell I don't! I bet you wish he was your older brother! Well, I've news for you he sucked!" America continued to shout.

South felt uncomfortable. He'd never seen America this drunk before. America drank often with his presidents and government, but he was always a happy drunk. South was even allowed to drink on occasion, but America was usually pretty adamant on keeping South sober.

"America-," South was interrupted again.

"He tried to control me too, you know. I showed him though and I'll show you if you get in my way. He was my brother too and I had no problems getting rid of him," America told South.

South stood in absolute horror at America's words as what he was talking about clicked in South's brain. America was referring to Britain, who South had never even met or knew. South only knew what America said about Britain, so how could South wish Britain was his brother instead?

"You don't mean that," South said shakily trying to prevent his throat from closing up and the tears from falling down.

America stared at South for a long moment, "Why are you even here? Thought I told you to leave?" America inquired.

South swallowed the lump in his throat and pointed to the soup, "I made you some chicken broth because you were sick," South answered trying to keep from hyperventilating.

America wouldn't leave South. He wouldn't kick South out like Britain. He didn't mean it. He was just drunk. America loved South. He'd told South so all his life, so why was he acting as if South were the worst person in the world right now. South hadn't exactly been a good brother with his stance on slavery and trying to protect it, but it was essential to his economy. If America would stop with his antislavery position, and allow the states to decide their rights they wouldn't fight near as much.

"I'm sick because of you," America reminded South scathingly.

South nodded and turned to leave. He couldn't take being in the same room with America anymore after what he'd revealed. America didn't try to stop him just watched him leave. Tears rolled down the Southern states cheeks in betrayal. Could he even trust America anymore? He ran to his room feeling utterly abandoned by his big brother.

America woke up with a splitting headache the next morning. He hated being sick, but it wasn't until he realized he was dying for some water that the headache wasn't from being sick. This was a hangover. He looked over at his nightstand hoping against hope there would be a glass of water waiting for him, but was instead greeted with a bowl. America frowned and leaned forward seeing the soup inside the bowl. Where had this come from?

Then it hit him.

America's heart stopped as the bowl brought back hazy memories of America being deliberately cruel to South. What had America done? The memory of his little brother trying to hold it together after America had basically told him that he'd get rid of South. Anguish tore through America's chest as he threw the covers off and ran for South's room in his night gown.

"South!" he called hastily.

He received no answer as the room was empty. America cursed and ran for the president's room. America's head felt like it was going to split open, but it was nothing compared to the fear that South had left. Franklin Pierce was startled awake by America banging into his room.

"America what's wrong? What's happened?" Pierce questioned frightened.

"I can't find South!" he panted, "I said some mean things to him last night and now I can't find him. What if he left? What if he went to Britain?"

Pierce frowned, "Why would he go to Britain?" the president questioned.

"I said some things last night. We have to find him!" America declared and turned from the room to continue his frantic search.

The entire White House went on alert looking for the other half of the United States. Finally, the door to the White House opened late in the evening and in walked South. South gave a startled squeak when one of the maids shouted for America and the nation came barreling down the hallway. America instantly threw his arms around his younger brother and hugged him hard.

"I'm so sorry, South. Please forgive me. I'm so so very sorry. Don't ever leave again," America told him grievously.

South stood frozen in America's arms before returning the hug, "So you do want me?" he questioned wearily.

"Of course I do!" America exclaimed.

America pulled from the hug and stared at the heartbroken expression on South's face as a tear ran down his face. He removed Texas and wiped the tears from the teenager's face.

"I will always want you. You're literally my other half. I didn't mean anything I said last night. I shouldn't have said it and I know I can't take back the words. Please forgive me," America told him.

South sniffed, "You're forgiven," America hugged him tightly again.

"Where did you go?" America asked letting his younger brother go.

"It's Sunday. I went to a black church," South responded and wrinkled his nose in distaste.

America looked at South in surprise, "You?" he questioned in shock.

South glared, "Yes, I did. I donated to their cause," South responded nonchalantly turning and crossing his arms.

America frowned, "What cause?" he questioned.

"To buy Anthony Burns' freedom," South answered and then found himself once more engulfed in America's arms.

"Thank you," America thanked with a huge smile.

"Don't thank me. I didn't do it for him. I did it for you," South replied.

Anthony Burns was soon back on the streets of Boston.

 _May 1856_

South had sat tight lipped during the hot Senate meeting with one of America's abolitionists, Charles Sumner, part of a growing Northern party called the Republicans. He was angry during the entire speech as the senator attacked slavery and demanded Kansas be admitted to the Union as a free state. America sat a few seats down scribbling bored on some parchment. South felt a sudden need to yell at him to keep his senators in line but refrained. This was the second day of having to listen to this verbal pollution.

Finally the man ended his speech and the meeting was adjourned. South made a bee line for his brother.

"I feel incredibly assailed," South muttered with a scowl.

America sighed, "He had some good points," America pointed out.

"Of course you would think so. He was especially rude and insulting. He mocked my senators, one with a disability that cannot be helped," South said in disdain.

America cringed, "Yeah," he answered refusing to elaborate to keep the peace.

South stared at America as if waiting for more, but when it became apparent that America wasn't going to continue South sighed. Perhaps it was better they didn't talk about this, but anger over the speech given by Sumner still burned in his mind.

"Is that all? I'm made out to be a complete fool in the Senate, and all you can muster is a yeah?" South was a little bitter.

"Humans don't understand what we do. Many Northern people dislike the Southern people and vic versa. It's only natural they attack each other," America attempted to be reasonable.

"But not in the government where things should remain well-mannered and cultivated," South ranted.

America felt an immature need to mock his brother like he had done Britain, but he knew it would only make things worse. For once, America was not going to let his brother get under his skin like he had in the past. America was the older brother and it was time he acted like it.

America and South entered the White House and instantly removed their coats. It was an extremely hot day in Washington. Everyone was impatient to get home and remove their garments and grab their fans. The two brothers were no exception.

"Yeah, listen it's been a long hot day. I think I'm going to head to my room and do some light reading in as little clothing as possible," America left South, who simply nodded his understanding.

Two days later found America and South out for a stroll and were actually having a good day when the Attorney General, John Crittenden, came running at them in a panic. He was one of the members of government who was aware that America and South were personifications. He was panting hard trying to catch his breath when he got there.

"America," he managed breathy.

America's eyes were wide. There was a slight unease tugging in his gut, but he had wrapped it up to eating too much earlier. It was apparent now that something had happened in his government.

"What's wrong, John?" America nearly demanded the question.

"He's going to kill him! Come quick!" was all Crittenden managed before he turned and led America and South to the Capital.

Inside there was a huge commotion and both South and America rushed towards it to see blood pooling in the Senate Chamber's floor. America's stomach dropped when he saw Sumner unconscious being beaten nearly to death.

"Hey! Stop!" America shouted and pushed people out of the way rushing to get to Sumner.

America managed to pull the attacker from Sumner ignoring pro-slavery representatives shouting at America to let the man continue his beating. America finally recognized the attacker, Preston Brooks, one of the Representatives from South Carolina and relative of Senator Andrew Butler, the man with the disability that Sumner had insulted.

"That is certainly not the punishment I had in mind for being ugly in the Senate," South said nonchalantly strolling into the room.

America glared at his brother, "He was nearly beaten to death!" America yelled picking up Sumner most likely to rush him to the doctor.

"Perhaps now that he is disabled he will know better to insult a disabled man. Especially one from my home," South replied with an air of superiority.

America wanted to argue more with South, but the bleeding was getting worse. America left the room ignoring South as the other personification helped Brooks up and treated him as if he had done something good. Right now America's priority was to save Sumner's life not scolding South on his behavior.

Later that night once it was determined that Sumner would live, America and South got into a heated argument just as things seemed to be getting better for them. Instead this whole incident seemed to have made their continuing divide worse than ever. America was extremely angry over the violence that had occurred, and was even more upset when Brooks hardly received any punishment for his actions. South defended him with fervor and even went as far as to call him a hero.

"Just the other day you said that government should be well-mannered!" America pointed out angrily.

"And if Sumner had been well-mannered none of this would have happened! He got what he deserved! Now, hopefully, everyone will keep their insults out of the Senate," South rebutted.

America was shaking with fury. For a moment, South felt his heart stop in fear that his brother might actually lose himself and attack South. Finally, America went strangely calm, walked purposefully towards the liquor cabinet, grabbed a full bottle, and left the room slamming the door. South left out the breath he had been holding before falling into a chair exhausted and closed his eyes.

What was happening between them?

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 **Seems there is a pattern here. Both parties can feel each other losing the closeness they once shared, but they don't understand why its happening. They can't understand the other's reasoning behind their actions.**

 **Review/favorite/follow! I enjoy every one of them!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Welcome back guys!**

 **Huge thanks to all favorites/follows. You guys rock!**

 **Also special thanks to my reviewers!**

 **Elricgurl the Hetalian: Long reviews are not required. Short reviews receive an equal amount of love as the long ones. The Civil War certainly changed a lot about America and still influences us today. Thanks for your support!**

 **Anpoe: Thank you! I've put a lot of research into it! I'm always glad to know my readers enjoy it. Thanks for your support!**

 **I do not own Hetalia.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven: Bleeding Kansas 1855-1861**

 _Sacking of Lawrence, Kansas 1856_

The Kansas-Nebraska act was tough on both America and South. They had completely stopped speaking to each other and only spoke to yell at one another. Washington was being brought to its knees over the issue of allowing slavery in Kansas between the congressmen and the two personifications. It spoke of a country at war with itself. The internal struggle showed between the two American brothers.

America was holding his chest when he burst into South's favorite sitting room. His eyes were searching for his brother and when he found him he stalked forward and plucked the book his younger brother had been reading and tossed it across the room.

"America! What in God's name are you doing!" South shouted half in shock and half in anger.

America pulled his hand from his chest revealing the blood staining his shirt. A laceration had manifested on the country and America knew exactly who was to blame for it. It had to be because of those damn ruffians of South's in Kansas. America shoved the hand onto South's cheek rubbing the sticky red substance on his face.

"This is your fault!" America shouted.

South leaned away from the bloodied appendage in disgust reaching into his pocket for his handkerchief well aware it was going to stain.

"Get that out of my face now!" South bellowed jumping up in fury.

"What? Don't wanna reap the benefits of your Missourian ruffians?" America questioned in contempt.

"Still angry that Washington backs my pro-slavery government in Lecompton?" South smirked as he wiped his face clean of Amerca's blood.

He was referring to the capital set up by his pro-slavery supporters in Lecompton, Kansas. At the moment, it looked like Kansas would be admitted into the union as a slave state by popular sovereignty. South hadn't gone about it in an honest way sending Missourians into the territory to outnumber the free soil supporters, but sometimes you had to do what you had to do.

America laughed bitterly, "Because you use dirty tricks! I didn't raise you that way," America argued loudly with a scoff.

South's cocky smile widened. The younger personification completely ignored America's words.

"You should get that looked at," South suggested nonchalantly gesturing to the wound.

Blood was slowly being absorbed into America's shirt.

America's rage was beginning to boil over. How dare South talk to him so condescendingly. America was the older brother. America was in charge. South was a part of him, America. South was his, not the other way around. He was not going to lose control over himself. America was not going to lose control of South.

America stomped toward South and went grab him by the lapels, but South was quicker. He ducked beneath the incoming hands and managed to get behind America. From there, South locked his arms underneath America's armpits to hold him in submission. South was tired of this constant argument. Every time any form of altercation occurred in Kansas America always came to yell at him. In South's opinion, America was just jealous that everything was working in South's favor.

"I am the center of the world's economy, America. You won't be able to bully me like you used to," South declared tiredly as America struggled in South's hold.

It was true. South currently held a monopoly on the world's supply of cotton, and had enough cotton to go around. Even America's industrialized north needed South's cotton. This made South extremely wealthy and by association America wealthy though America was loathe to admit it. America struggled in his brother's hold before finally going limp.

"Let me go," America said the fight drained out of him.

South let him go and America left silently. The Southern personification sighed gratefully before bending down to get the book America had flung. He returned to his seat and opened his book up to continue his leisure before he had to meet with South Carolina's senator.

 _Pottawatomie Massacre 1856_

South was in the middle of a House of Representatives meeting when the pain started. Sharp, acute pain like a bullet wound in his gut made him grip the desk he was seated in with white knuckles. He gnashed his teeth together to contain the groans of pain that wanted to escape his lips. America was on the other side of the meeting. South didn't want America to know something had happened in Kansas, and for once it was in America's favor instead of South's.

The Southern personification looked down at his chest to see underneath his jacket a harsh red was staining his white shirt. A need to cough overtook South suddenly and he was unable to reach his handkerchief in time before he spewed blood across his desktop.

He quickly wiped his arm across the desktop desperate to hide his condition. America couldn't know that the anti-slavery side had hurt him. South could not let America know that he was still weak. He stood up carefully ignoring the stares he was getting from a few of the congressmen and casually exited the House chamber. The moment he managed to get outside he rushed to the side of the building out of sight to anyone who exited the building.

Carefully, South untucked his shirt and unbuttoned it to assess the damage. He hissed peeling the shirt from the jagged cut above his naval. South sighed and let his head fall back against the side of the Capital building. This was worse than anything America always complained about and South knew why. Someone had murdered his pro-slavery supporters and a panic was spreading across Kansas. South could feel the people's fear and it was causing him to sweat more than usual in the May heat due to his condition.

South removed his jacket and vest then his bloodied shirt. He took the shirt and made a makeshift bandage of the material to stop the bleeding. Next he replaced his jacket knowing full well he looked utterly ridiculous without his shirt and necktie, but it was his best option to get back to the White House without anyone spying his injury. Once back at the White House, South could stitch it up and wait for it to heal without anyone the wiser.

He stood up using the Capital building for support. The pulling of the broken skin was draining his energy and he breathed harsh breaths as he attempted to appear normal. Carefully, he took some experimental steps before giving himself a nod and returned to the public. The House meeting was letting out as South attempted his walk back home.

"Didn't like the way the meeting went?" a smug familiar tone questioned.

South wanted to die. Of all the people that spotted him, it had to be his brother. He honestly hadn't been paying much attention to the meeting.

"I didn't find it warranted my time," South answered his brother snootily.

America snorted with a winning smile, "Right, so the fact that the House is electing more Republicans doesn't bother you?" America questioned sarcastically.

"Yeah," South answered, his vision blurred and he stumbled but immediately righted himself.

America made a noise of confusion. South usually bickered with him and it made America feel strange to hear South agree with him. A feeling of concern wormed its way into America, but the country squashed it instantly. South was making his life hell. America should be glad that South wasn't fighting him for once, but the truth was America still cared a great deal for South and something was wrong with him.

"Why the hell are you dressed like that? You usually pride yourself on being a southern beau?" America questioned noticing that all South seemed to have on was his jacket.

South was breathing like he'd just finished a marathon and he didn't answer making America all the more worried. America grabbed South by his bicep, but was completely unprepared for South to fall into his chest. Instantly, America was assaulted by South's entire sixteen year old body.

"Jesus H. Christ," America muttered when he noticed the red bleeding through the jacket, "What the hell happened to you?"

South sighed, "Just get me home," he murmured defeated.

"Not until you tell me why you're bleeding! Who attacked you? Was it someone from Europe?" America was having a small hysterical attack.

If someone from Europe had decided to attack his brother, that would mean war and America needed to know.

"No, nothing like that," South responded as he tried to remove himself from America's hold, but America was currently stronger than him.

"South!" America demanded and glared at his younger brother.

South grit his teeth, "Fine! Someone from the anti-slavery side in Kansas has murdered some of my supporters. Are you happy now?" South shouted once more attempting to pull from America's arms.

America held him strong, "I can't say I don't feel some form of satisfaction, but I can't have my people murdering each other. Let's get you home and cleaned up," America responded, but he sounded anything but boastful.

The older personification sounded troubled more than anything and disappointed. It wasn't anything like South had been expecting. America helped South home, cleaned him up, and made him comfortable in his room. The entire time America had helped South he seemed almost in a trance. America barely spoke and seemed extremely lost in thought. Finally, South spoke up asking a question that had hung in his mind since America had helped him.

"Why'd you help me?" South questioned curiously, "It ain't like I've been a model brother lately."

America shook his head solemnly, "Because no matter what problems we have right now, I'm still your older brother. You are still my responsibility."

South had nothing to say to that.

America turned and left South in his room with one of his favorite pro-slavery volumes.

 _Boston Massacre 1770 flashback_

This situation with South was eerily familiar only this time America was in the role as parent. He remembered it being one of the few times Britain had been visiting him. America had been anxious to tell Britain all the problems the Empire had been causing America with his Stamp Act. During their nightly tea time before bed, America had dropped the tea cup and it had shattered on the floor in front of the fireplace. America could still remember it clear as day.

"America! Lad, what's wrong? Don't tell me that frog had anything to do with this!" Britain had growled as he had brought his stained hand away from America's bloodied torso.

The Empire had instantly with concerned hands opened up America's gory clothing to reveal the terrible wound. A curse had dropped from Britain's lips and it was clear he was angry at whoever had done this to his colonies. Britain had not been one to play games when it had come to his little brother.

America had shook his head and coughed, "No," America had gasped out in pain.

The pain had been sudden and came out of nowhere, but Britain, even after their violent shouting argument earlier in the day, had been concerned and worried. Britain had easily picked up his colonies and took him to America's bedroom where he had dressed and soothed America. Britain had looked devastated that the attack had been his own military when America told him.

Britain had sighed sadly as he left his colonies, but before he left America had called out to him.

"Britain!"

Britain had turned with inquisitive eyes.

"Why did you help me? My people were harassing yours," America had questioned.

Britain had appeared surprised by the question before he had answered.

"Because no matter what problems we have right now, I'm still your older brother. You are still my responsibility."

America felt tears roll down his face as he remembered the Boston Massacre. That had been six years before the Revolutionary War. Was America on the verge of a Civil War with his brother? The very thought caused heavy sobs to shatter in his rib-cage. Had America turned into his mentor, Britain? Was America a failure as an older brother?

Was America going to lose South?

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 **Thanks for reading! Everyone is welcome to slip me a review! Or if you're too shy feel free to favorite/follow instead!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Welcome back guys!**

 **We are getting close to the civil war now! Took long enough right? Unfortunately I haven't written chapter 14 yet. I'm afraid after next week's chapter I will be placing this story on hiatus as life is getting hectic with work, travel, and study. I should be getting a break in my schedule in May, and I'm hoping to pick this story back up.**

 **Huge thanks to everyone who has favorited/followed! Thanks for reading!**

 **Special thanks to my reviewer, Elricgurl the Hetalian: I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks for your support! XD**

 **I do not own Hetalia.**

* * *

 **Chapter Twelve: Harper's Ferry and Abraham Lincoln**

 _October 1859: John Brown Raids Harper's Ferry_

It was rare but it did happen. America and South were reading together in the parlor in companionable silence. Each had their own specific newspapers they read. America read the anti-slavery newspaper, _The Liberator_ , and South read his pro-slavery, _The Charleston Mercury_. Both were currently enthralled in the printed debates between Democrat Stephen Douglas and a new Republican, Abraham Lincoln, who before the Illinois senatorial election neither had known, but was gaining quick support in the North.

South despised him.

America heard South gasp before America felt it too, a sharp chest pain.

"What have you done?" South questioned accusingly opposite him.

South held his heart with one hand and folded the newspaper with the other setting it down. The entire time he grimaced in pain his fingers tightening in his shirt as if it would remove the pain.

America put his paper next to South's on the coffee table, "Nothing, I felt it too," America responded in confusion.

The two brothers had never felt the same pain before. Usually America got the North's and South got the South's. Even during the War of 1812 South hadn't suffered any of the damage inflicted by Britain, so what was this that could have affected them both.

South frowned, "How?" he questioned as their chests suddenly fired up.

Both made noises of discomfort.

"Someone's attacking us," America replied finally.

"Both of us at the same time?" South questioned in disbelief.

America shrugged. This was highly unusual. The two brothers hurried to the oval office finding Buchanan leaning back in his chair with an arm thrown over his eyes. He jumped as the personifications entered the room. When he noticed the frantic look in America's eyes, Buchanan frowned.

"What's happened?" he demanded in a controlled tone, like a man prepared for bad news.

"Someone's attacked us," America answered when what America could only describe as severe heartburn seared his chest.

Buchanan stiffened in surprise, "Its Harper's Ferry," the president said knowingly.

America gasped in realization, "The warning," he said slowly his jaw falling open.

They all knew of the anonymous tip that had come in nearly two months ago. A man had written the government informing them that John Brown of Kansas had plans to attack and capture the armory at Harper's Ferry in Virginia. It went on to say he planned to arm black slaves and march on the South. Buchanan had dismissed it putting a reward on John Brown believing that no citizen of the United States would plan this.

"So one of your crazy abolitionists finally went too far and now it's affected both of us," South stated in frustration.

"He does not represent me," America growled turning to glare at South.

"Please," Buchanan begged, "No fighting today. We have a crisis."

"Just kill all of them! They've committed treason against the United States," South said loudly closing his eyes against the pain.

"South!" America scolded, "Innocent until proven guilty in court."

South sighed discontented but nodded with America agreeing with his brother for the first time in years. Something different was going on with the Southern personification though. Panic was spreading and turning into an all-out fury in the South. Fear of a slave insurrection was on every Southerner's mind, but now it had been amplified. It was all his abolitionist big brother's fault.

America jerked as a small tear ripped into his skin on his chest. He immediately turned to see the same wound on his little brother. Some of their citizens had died. Apparently treason affected both of them. Thankfully, it seemed with them sharing the attack between their two personifications it downgraded the intensity of it.

South gritted his teeth before finally getting up from his seat, "Get this insanity handled. America, control your people," South snarled hand to his wound now and turned towards the door slamming it.

America winced and looked at his president as if he had the answer to South's sudden mood swing. The president only shook his head. Even though America felt the need to follow South and defend himself he had a people to protect, so America and the president got to work. America and Buchanan ordered Bvt. Col. Robert E Lee to command a troop of marines to contain the situation. The local militia had already managed to bring Brown into a retreat. Once the marines had John Brown and his supporters in custody, John Brown was tried and executed.

However, the prophecy left behind in Brown's death both alarmed and terrified America.

 _Slavery would never be purged except with blood._

The idea of bloodshed on his own soil and the knowledge that it would hurt South numbed America down to his bones. There had to be some way to keep it from happening.

 _February 27 1860: The Cooper Union Speech_

South wasn't supposed to be here in New York City. He'd sneaked out after his brother had informed him he was going out to a meeting of the _Young Men's Central Republican Union_. South had grunted at America in response receiving an eye roll as the older personification left. South had gone into action following his brother at a distance purchasing a ticket for the train and now here he was keeping his head down keeping tabs on America as he walked through the city.

Why was South doing this? South had heard that the new up and coming Abraham Lincoln was supposed to be giving a speech at this meeting. South also knew that he was a candidate to run for president on the Republican side, but it was more than that. South knew Lincoln was the only nominee that could pull off the election.

America turned abruptly on his heel to cross the street. South followed crossing after America had finished. There America finally reached his destination, Cooper Union at The Great Hall. South watched him exchange words with the greeter before entering. South waited a long while before following behind his brother. His heart rate sped up as he approached the greeter.

"Hey, there, friend!" the young man greeted kindly, "Here for the meeting?"

"Yes sir," South responded with a smile.

The greeter's eyes narrowed at the Southern personification, "You sound like you're not from around here," the man stated.

A shot of adrenaline ran through South's chest. He hadn't been thinking his accent would give him away. He'd never had a need to hide it before, but that was in Washington where everyone knew him. This was New York, anti-slavery central.

"I assure you I am. I came all the way from Washington for this," South answered the man doing his best not to drag out his vowels specifically his I's and making sure to pronounce every letter in the sentence.

"Invitation?" the greeter deadpanned holding his hand out.

Sweat dripped down the back of South's neck despite the snow on the ground before an idea popped into his mind. He smiled at the greeter apologetically.

"I stepped out for a bit. I'm afraid I left my invitation inside. I just came in not too long ago. Alfred F Jones?" South told him.

The man frowned thoughtfully probably wondering why South would be back outside if he had just gone in, but finally recognition sparked in his eyes. The greeter snapped his fingers excitedly, pointed at South and chuckled.

"Oh right! I didn't recognize you with your glasses on. Go on in Mr. Jones! My apologies," the man apologized.

South held in his relieved breath, "It's alright. I get that a lot," South responded and headed into the building.

Inside he was met with excited conversations and more people than he expected to be in attendance. He was cautious constantly on the lookout for America. Finally a few speakers on behalf of the organization spoke silencing the crowd. Behind the speaker sat the very man himself, Abraham Lincoln, and to South's astonishment America sat next to him whispering excitedly. How hadn't South noticed that before?

It was a rip of betrayal that had South's chest in a knot. Didn't America know what Lincoln stood for? Lincoln wanted federal control over the states, over South. If Lincoln gained the nomination and won to presidency, South would no longer be his own person. Would South even exist anymore or would he fade away? Did America want to be rid of him that badly?

South had been so into his thoughts, he hadn't realized Lincoln had begun his speech. The beginning of the speech had South balling and unballing his fists. South glared at Lincoln. South had known the thirty nine signers of the Constitution. He knew where each of them stood. Only a few hadn't liked South and avoided him like the plague most notably Benjamin Franklin and Alexander Hamilton. South gave Lincoln that point. It grated on South's nerves how much research had gone into the speech only to prove Lincoln's point.

Then the speech changed its tune completely. It both surprised and disquieted South.

 _And now, if they would listen - as I suppose they will not - I would address a few words to the Southern people._

South stared with shocked eyes up at Lincoln. That was when South broke eye contact with Lincoln and turned to look at his brother, who stared at him in horror and shock. It was obvious America had not expected South to be here as Lincoln continued on with his animosity towards the South even going as far as to mock his people. South took an unbidden step back. His heart was hammering in his chest both from anger and betrayal. Tears were pooling in his eyes.

America supported this man, Lincoln, who wanted to destroy everything South stood for. If Lincoln took away his states' rights, South wouldn't be his own body anymore. He wouldn't have his own governments that dictated his actions for his people. America, his brother whom he loved, would have South killed.

South needed to get out. He needed to leave. He turned near the end of the speech to leave pushing past people just as applause and shouts erupted. South missed the frantic calling for him behind him as he pushed into the below freezing February air. A sob managed to escape his lips as he rushed across the street ignoring the shouts from the carriage drivers.

"South!" South heard America calling him but ignored it and continued to hastily walk away.

Where South was going, he had no idea. The train wasn't scheduled to leave for another hour.

When South heard feet crunching in the snow quickly behind him, South took off in a sprint.

"Damn it, South!" America shouted earning a few shouts in agreement from the ignorant street goers.

The next thing South knew he was face first in the snow with America's arms wrapped around his ankles. The personification of the North was breathing hard and his cheeks were pink from the cold and exhaustion.

"Let me go, America!" South demanded kicking at America's face.

"Stop it!" America growled before managing to get a good grip on the offending appendages with each hand.

"No! Let me go, let me go, let me go!" South hollered in agony as the emotional turmoil swirled inside him.

"Just let me explain!" America demanded, but South refused to look at him.

"What's to explain? You hate me. You want to take away what makes me who I am!" South shouted as the people on street stared at the two in curiosity.

"You are getting out of control!" America bellowed suddenly, "You act like your own country and you push me around! As long as you get what you want you don't care how it affects me!"

"So what? You're going to make sure you give yourself Federal power over me?" South spat bitterly.

"I'm going to make sure the Constitution is followed. I'm going to start making a stand in what I believe in. I'm not going to let you have your way anymore! All I've done has been for you but now it's time I do for me. It's time for me to regain control over my country," America replied just as fervently.

"You're going to kill me!" South wailed abruptly.

"Kill you?" America questioned stunned.

America was completely thrown for a loop. He didn't want to kill South. He loved his brother. America just needed to be able to get a grip on the reigns of his own country before South decided he would be better off without America just like America had done to Britain. It had been a fear of America's ever since he'd drawn a comparison to the events leading up to the Revolutionary War.

"Everything that I am would be gone, America!" South yelled finally making eye contact with his brother.

"You're being over dramatic," America chided with a sigh.

"No I'm not!" South cried out sharply.

"Your people are making you think this! What makes you who you are is your culture, your people, your heritage," America explained.

South glared, "My culture is slavery. My people depend on slavery. My heritage is slavery," South rebutted.

A few people were staring at America and South in confusion. They began to whisper among themselves as the entire street had gone to a standstill watching the two brothers verbally face off in the strangest argument they had ever heard.

America shook his head in disappointment, "South you are so much more than slavery!" America roared.

South didn't say anything. He just laid in the snow using his crossed arms to hold his head indicating he was done with this conversation in a childish way. America could tell when South shut down from an argument. It was usually when South realized America had a point and decided the wisest course of action was to not speak.

America exhaled a large exhausted breath letting go of South's ankles. Instantly South stood up brushing the snow from his clothes and wiping the tears and snot that had been produced during the argument. America went to touch South, but the younger personification jerked from his touch. A feeling of hurt shot through America, but he suppressed it to focus on South.

"I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm just trying to do what's best for us. We can't keep fighting like this," America explained softly.

"If he's nominated and elected president, there won't be anything to fight over because I'll leave," South deadpanned darkly not looking at America.

A shot of alarm went through America, "You'd never make it on your own," America countered.

South chuckled bitterly, "And I'd never make it with you. I'm not going to let him kill me," South refuted.

America could feel his patience wearing thin again. He wasn't going to repeat this argument.

"Go home, South, we'll talk more in private. I'm sure as it stands now we'll be the gossip of the town," America instructed South wearily.

The Southern personification didn't even give an answer or acknowledge America in anyway. He simply turned and walked towards the train station where he would wait to board the return train to Washington.

America was shaking all over, but he wasn't cold. He was unnerved by South's behavior today. He hadn't expected to see South out in the crowd for Lincoln's speech today. As far as America knew, South didn't care for Northern politics. Had America known he would never have let South know where he was going. America constantly underestimated South and was frightened he would get too cocky and actually leave America. It seemed no matter how hard America tried not to repeat the same mistakes Britain did America still came up short.

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 **And there we have it! Shoot me a review and tell me what you think!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Welcome back!**

 **I am late on this chapter and I apologize. This will also be the last chapter for a little while. I plan to update this story again in May. I'm going to call it Part 2 and this be Part 1. Part one sums up the events/politics leading up to the Civil War and Part two is going to be actual warfare and battles. I've come to think of it somewhat like this is the mid season finale and the season will resume in May.**

 **Thanks to everyone who favorites/follows!**

 **Special thanks to my reviewer: ElricGurl the Hetalian- The hiatus will hopefully, if all goes according to plan, only last until May. Thank you for the luck! I wish you the best as well! Oh, the South is cocky. At this point in time, South firmly believes he's going to get Europe's, particularly Britain's help with the belief of "King Cotton." He will be sorely mistaken. Also, France would have helped the South, but Prussia at the time was like hell naw you back up off America and let him handle this or else. I've got a lot of research up I just have to write the chapter. Northerners are different, but of the ones I've met most have been nice and comment on my accent. Every time I travel they're usually nice. And believe it or not biscuit where I'm from is a legitimate form of cursing. "Son of a biscuit!" Or they are a baseball team. The Montgomery Biscuits. Awesome minor league team. Thanks for the support!**

 **I do not own Hetalia.**

 **Enjoy!**

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 **Chapter thirteen: 1860 Presidential Election**

 _June 1860_

South's voice was probably loudest in the room at another failure of a Democratic convention in Baltimore. This was the second time the Democratic convention had met, and it was worse than the first. The Northern Democrats wanted Stephan Douglas as the nominee, but South wanted John Breckinridge, the current vice president. South was in good relations with both the president and the vice president and he knew Breckinridge would support federal law protecting slavery no matter where the slave owners went.

Finally South got fed up and left rallying his southern delegates as they left with him. He'd never felt so in tune with his fellow countrymen, something he'd been alienated from while living in Washington. Finally, South got what he wanted as they reconvened with just the southern democrats and nominated John Breckinridge.

South sighed as he entered the White House, the entire convention wearing him down emotionally. If his candidate didn't win, he would cease to exist as he was now. He'd turn into the lap dog America so desperately wanted him to be.

"Second time a charm?" America questioned.

South didn't answer him. After their fight in New York, South refused to acknowledge America. His so called brother was trying to take the fight out of South, trying to ruin him. America didn't care about South. The older personification just wanted to control him.

"I'll take that as a no!" America called after him as South headed for his bedroom, his temper spiking.

South wasn't going to become America's faithful servant.

"South, come on talk to me please. It's been months since we've had a conversation," America followed him down the hallway.

South continued to ignore him.

America grabbed his arm and South stopped with a loud annoyed sigh, "I want to talk to my brother," America stated.

"What, America?" South questioned finally in acquiescence, but he didn't turn around.

"I miss you. Ever since this election business started you've been distant. At least before, we could read the newspaper together," America answered wistfully.

South balled his fists, "You know the reason why," South deadpanned.

America sighed heavily, "Look, Lincoln isn't going to take away slavery from you. He just wants to stop it from spreading west. Please, see that we aren't trying to kill you. I love you. You're my brother. I just don't want to fight anymore," America told him.

South could feel a part of himself wanting what America was saying. He wanted to stop fighting too. South missed America too. Perhaps if he agreed they could go back to the way things used to be when the two of them smiled and were happy. South could feel anger at his indecision and his emotional weakness, but he also felt something else. South's love for America had done something horrid.

South gasped softly alerting America, "What?" America asked anxiously.

"No," South whispered knowing exactly what had just happened.

"South, what?" America demanded.

"Why did you do that!" South shouted clinching his eyes shut to keep his angry tears at bay.

America backpedaled in confusion, "What did I do?" America questioned.

Breckinridge's chances of winning this election just took a great hit. Something South had fought so hard for during all the Democratic conventions, and it was all America's fault. A new party was forming called the Constitutional Union party, one that didn't address slavery, one that was against leaving America, one that was forming because South didn't want to leave America.

"There's another party forming!" South shouted in anguish.

"A third party?" America was trying to keep up with South.

"No!" South snarled turning to face America gripping him by the lapels of his jacket, "A fourth!"

South was suddenly sobbing as he held America's lapels for support before America drew him into his arms at first in confusion, but then relished that his brother was seeking comfort from him for the first time in years. The Southern personification wailed into his brother's chest. This was it. There were too many candidates, not enough to combat the Republican party. The split of the Democrats, the ones in favor of South, and the ones in favor of the North, made two parties, and now the Constitutional Union party.

"South, why are there four parties?" America questioned softly.

South sniffed. He was going to have to leave America. That was the only solution now, but hope still held onto the Southern personification. He'd just have to erase Lincoln from the ballot then Breckenridge would win, and everything could go back to normal. The Constitutional Union wasn't going to ruin it. He could do it.

South pulled out of America's arms, embarrassed, but South hadn't been in good mental terms lately. His people were in an outrage. Rebel yells echoed in his dreams at night and stirrings of war thrummed in his veins, but at the same time he didn't want to leave America either. He was afraid. What if he couldn't make it on his own?

South sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve, "The Democrats split," South answered.

America nodded slowly, "Okay, that explains three parties," America stared at South waiting.

South hiccuped, "Another party is forming. The Constitutional Union party," South answered pitifully.

America blinked continuing to stare at South, "Huh?" he said undignified.

"It doesn't want to secede," South stated.

Realization dawned on America and it caused hope to expand furiously in his chest. South did still care about him. South wanted on some level to stay with America, and was fighting within himself, a feeling America knew all too well. America remembered drafting the Declaration of Independence with Thomas Jefferson. It had taken what America thought was ages and he was pent up with excitement and dread. The loyalists at the time had a great influence on him, and America constantly questioned whether what his Founding Fathers were doing was the right thing.

"That's great!" America declared with a smile.

South jerked back from America, "No, it isn't! I can't be indecisive in this election! There's too much at stake!" South professed.

America's face turned serious, "There doesn't have to be. If you leave, I will bring you back kicking and screaming if I have to," America promised.

South glared at America, "Let's just see how the election pans out," South replied darkly and turned leaving America alone in the hall.

 _November 1860_

South knew it when it happened. His candidate had lost the election. At that point South would have rather anyone but Lincoln to have won. He sat in the dark of his room with his Kentucky senator, John Crittenden, who was frantically trying to keep South with America. Kentucky was one of the states that did not want to leave the union.

"If we could just get this compromise passed-," South interrupted Crittenden.

"America has already said he was done compromising," South responded deadened.

"But if we just try!" Crittenden begged.

South shook his head and sighed, "You can try, but I've seen Lincoln speak. He won't go through with it," South responded.

Crittenden left determined to keep the country together, but South knew the proposal would fail. It was time for South to leave America and become his own country. He refused to allow Lincoln to come in and leash him up like an unwanted step child.

 _December 1860 – February 1861_

America was in the in the middle of a meeting with his president elect and president when he felt it. He was in the middle of speaking when he suddenly drew silent and sat paralyzed. America couldn't move, speak, or understand what the two men before him were saying.

For a while America had thought South had somehow managed to disconnect from America much like a phone not hung up properly but still connected by the cord. He hadn't understood how certain injuries would only affect South and not America. Since South was a part of America, America should have felt it too. Now America knew for certain this was not the case. South had never been disconnected from him just buried deep inside him hidden. The personification opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.

"America?!" Lincoln shouted his name for the third time, "Does he do this often?"

Buchanan shook his head and stared in shock, "Never. He's never done this," Buchanan replied.

Then the screaming started and America put both hands against his head to stop the pain. It was agonizing. He felt as if his heart was going to beat out of his chest and his head might explode, and this was only the beginning. When he gained land, like the Louisiana Purchase, America felt on top of the world, but when he lost land it felt like a gut wrenching hot knife twisting within him.

"America!" both men shouted in unison.

"He's leaving!" America howled regaining control of his limbs and jumping up so quick the chair toppled backwards.

America's heart was racing and frightening panic whirred through his body. He'd never thought South would actually leave to become his own country. America always assumed South was being melodramatic, but it was happening and America needed to find South now.

"America who's leaving?" Lincoln asked confused.

Buchanan meanwhile had gone pale, "South," the president stated knowingly.

Lincoln stared at Buchanan, "South?" the president questioned.

America had begun to cry as he bolted from the room immediately leaving Lincoln to stare after him in confusion and Buchanan in horror. The door slammed off the hinges into the wall, and the startled cry of a maid sounded down the hallway.

"His little brother," Lincoln turned back to Buchanan.

"Countries can have brothers?" Lincoln questioned in bewilderment.

Buchanan nodded, "You weren't exactly nice to him in your campaign. He hates you," Buchanan chuckled suddenly, "Didn't even put you on his ballot."

Lincoln went slack-jawed, "The South?" he deduced and paused, "You're telling me the South is America's little brother!"

Buchanan smiled bitterly, "Yeah, really charming boy if you ask me. America always introduces himself to new presidents first then his brother," the president replied.

"What did America mean when he said he was leaving?" Lincoln finally asked, but knew the answer already.

He'd addressed it in his speeches.

"South is seceding," Buchanan lost all expression his voice trembled.

America was rushing across the grass from the Capital to the White House. He needed to get to his brother quick. America could already feel more of himself preparing to leave, preparing to tear him apart. South would be weak right now. He'd only lost South Carolina, but America knew more would follow and quickly. At this time, South only had South Carolina's strength. America could keep him from leaving.

America slammed open South's bedroom door only to find no one there. A panic attack had begun to build inside America as he opened the closet to see no clothing. Breathing raggedly, he tore each drawer from the chest of drawers, and there was nothing inside them. South's favorite books were gone and all that was left was a single piece of paper on South's desk. America snatched it up, his hands trembling. Heaving, painful sobs were being released from his chest and an emotional pain America could never describe even a century later overtook him.

He read the tear stained letter to see it was addressed to him.

America,

The time has finally come that I have to protect myself from you. You have become relentless and unseeing in your quest to achieve justice and peace. This peace you want between us is impossible on the path you have chosen. It is hard, ever so hard, to have decided to continue my life without your aid as my own country with my own free will. I will not stand by and watch you tear me down to a shell of my former glory. I refuse to become your subordinate. When you find this letter, I will have departed with my senator from South Carolina, James Chesnut Jr. I knew exchanging this goodbye verbally would end in violence. I did not want my departing words to be in anger. Despite our differences, I do still care for you as much as a brother, but as of this time

I am no longer your little brother.

I am my own country now. Please do not attempt to bring me back. I don't wish to fight, but make no mistake I will fight for my freedom.

Sincerely,

South

A bellowing roar tore from America's lips as he read the letter, punching the wall in a fury unlike anything he'd ever felt. America hadn't even been this angry at Britain, but deep down America knew the anger stemmed from the betrayal and hurt he felt from his brother's, _ex-brother's_ , actions. Finally, he slid down to his knees before taking it further and lying on the floor in the fetal position. More states would follow, America knew, and he had been too late to keep his brother in Washington.

America cried on the floor of South's bedroom for a long time until finally the door creaked open carefully.

"America, sir," Buchanan said softly into the room.

America didn't respond.

Buchanan sighed, "You did your best," he said attempting to comfort America.

The door was suddenly thrown open all the way and in strode Lincoln past Buchanan. He had a determined look and a strong stride as he walked across the room to America. Lincoln bent down to see his country wallowing and the future president glared.

"Stand up," Lincoln commanded.

America didn't respond.

"Do you want your brother back or not?" Lincoln asked sharply.

This got America's attention. He looked at Lincoln wiping the snot from his nose with his sleeve.

"Yeah," America answered wetly.

"Then stand up!" Lincoln told him a second time.

America did as he was told and stood up, but he lacked any ambition and faced Lincoln looking lost.

"Listen to me. I will not be known as the president who let the union fall apart. I will bring back the South and you will either help me or continue to wallow in self-pity," Lincoln declared watching America intently.

America stared for a long moment at Lincoln before finally wiping his cheeks free of tears, sniffling and then stood up straight. He felt determination rise within him, an almost hope that he could get South back. America would not repeat the same mistakes as Britain. America would bring his brother back home, back into the union where he belonged. Back with America.

"I want my brother back," America answered with conviction.

Lincoln smiled and clapped America on the shoulder, "We will have a lot of work to do come the inauguration," Lincoln told him.

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 **Thanks all for reading! Don't be afraid to leave a review or fav/follow! I'll be back in May! Hang tight!**


	14. Chapter 14

**ElricGurl: Hello my friend! Thank you for your last review. It has been a long hiatus, one that I apologize for. I hope you're still around for the second installment of Blood for Blood.**

 **ChuuChan2317: Thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoyed it.**

 **Girl-Of-Action: I have 0 intentions of rushing through the second half of the story. It will be a long, strung out, all out bloody angsty war. And I actually wrote this in retaliation to those who make the Confederacy out to be some sort of monster. Its a war known as literal brother vs brother, and that was why I wrote out the events leading up to it. I needed my readers to feel just as much for the Confederacy as they did America. As for your prediction of South's death, I have no words. Thank you so much for your support. Your review was super flattering.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

 **Historical quotes are in italics. Feel free to look them up.**

 **WELCOME TO THE CIVIL WAR.**

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 **Chapter Fourteen**

 _January-March 1861_

More states followed much to the dismay of America. Each one nearly within days of the other tore him apart. Mississippi went after South Carolina followed by: Florida, Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana, and finally the largest, Texas. America's government suffered as well with each representative and senator of South's leaving to support him.

The more powerful South grew the angrier America became. He laid in his bed in agony trying to accommodate losing half of himself so suddenly. He felt his strength diminish, but he knew South was no match for him. South didn't even have an army or superior commanders. Not to mention, America was the industrial leader of the two and his population was much larger than South's. It would be a short war, and South would realize he had no chance. South would stop his rebellion and know America was right.

America was more concerned with Britain and France. He knew South would attempt to elicit help from his previous mentor. The first thing America found himself doing was writing both Britain and France to explain himself before South could.

 _Britain_

Britain had been in the middle of tea time when a letter from America had arrived. He had found it unusual that his former colonies were writing him since America was in constant competition with him. Naturally, Britain was suspicious. He opened and read the letter dropping his tea cup and spilling its contents in his lap after reading only the first paragraph.

"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed loudly both in response to the letter and hot tea in his lap.

The island country had known America was currently struggling with his southern side, but Britain had not been prepared to read that it had seceded from America. The letter was vague, but the threat came across crystal clear. "Do not recognize the Confederacy's independence or else." However, questions raged in the Brit's mind. Did this Confederacy have a personification? The letter had not said nor did it say the reasons behind the secession. If America was currently undergoing a Civil War and the Confederacy didn't have a personification that would mean America's body would be destroying itself from the inside out possibly even killing the country birthing a new one in his stead.

Britain was up and running through Parliament to his prime minister, Lord Palmerston. He shoved the letter into the prime minister's face out of breath.

"I need a ship to America now!" Britain demanded.

He had to see how America was doing. He wasn't worried. Britain was not worried about his previous colonies, who had betrayed him. He looked down at his trembling hands. America was in danger. Of course Britain was worried, and he couldn't stand it. He couldn't let America know he still cared. America would only throw it in his face. He packed his bags for America regardless.

 _January 9_ _th_ _1961, Fort Sumter_

America looked at Fort Sumter in the distance on board the merchant ship, _Star of the West,_ with his 200 Union troops. The ship America occupied was unarmed in order to foster a new trust with South. Unfortunately, he had received no word from his former Southern states. He hoped to end this dispute now as he neared his only fortification left in the South.

A loud crashing, breaking of wood suddenly shook the ship.

America's heart took off as adrenaline shot through his system and he was on the deck before his mind could catch up. Shouting and panicked words reached his ears.

"Cannon fire!"

"All hands on deck!"

"They're attacking us!"

"Retreat!"

America ran to the bow seeing the rows of cannon's spread out among Charleston's harbor. America's heart tore into a million pieces seeing his own people attacking him. He was hyperventilating. Grief ripped his soul asunder. A pain America couldn't even name forced him to his knees.

"South!" America bellowed the heartache evident in this one broadcast.

"Sir?" the captain, John McGowan sounded unsure.

America got to his feet violently; angry tears erupted from his eyes. His body was shaking. A laceration was forming on his cheek from the damage being dealt to him. He screamed aimlessly, an outlet his agony desperately needed. South had done it. He had finally divided them after threatening for so long. America had to stop this before it went too far.

 _February 8, 1861, Alabama_

He was in Montgomery, Alabama, his capital. South could hardly believe it. He had a capital. Currently, South was in a stress filled crisis of rounding up a government, which South had thought wouldn't be near as hard as it had turned out to be. He had a representative of each of his states in the capital working to form the new nation, but South had a more important agenda, finding a president.

"Jefferson please!" South begged the old Mexican-American War vet and Secretary of War, Jefferson Davis.

"No, South, I'm sorry, but I have to serve in the army. I know America. He's not letting you go without a fight. You don't need me holed away in office. You need me preparing for war," Davis responded dutifully.

South growled, "But you've been in the cabinet. You've been through an administration. You have the most experience to be president!" South argued.

Davis turned abruptly, "You shouldn't have seceded at all in the first place, South!" Davis suddenly shouted tired of the personification asking him for the impossible.

South paled.

"What in seven hells were you thinking? You're not ready for this. Asking me to be your president only proves this. You don't have the qualified people to make this work," Davis explained his anger slowly dissipating.

South bit back the feeling of disappointment and channeled it into anger.

"I may not have been ready for this, but I will damn sure fight for it. That's why I need a president that will fight with me. That's why I need you. Soon, Britain will need my cotton, and if he wants to continue getting my cotton he'll help me win this war, win my freedom," South replied with conviction.

Davis scoffed for a moment, "King Cotton," he muttered under his breath.

But it could work. What South was saying could work, and if South got Britain to ally with him against America then they could easily defeat America.

"You know, there might not even be a war," South said with a doubtful smile and shrug.

South knew after what happened at Fort Sumter back in January there was no chance that they were not going to war.

Davis guffawed, "Now that's a joke if I've ever heard one! There will be a war. America is not going to let you go and Lincoln is not going to let this stand."

South frowned at the mention of Lincoln.

"But for now, you've got yourself a president. I'm not the most qualified, but if you need one that desperately," Davis shook his head, "Then I will do my best for the will of the people."

South breathed a sigh of relief. He needed to pull together his nation before he went to war with his older brother. Deep in his bones, his muscles, and his nervous system he could feel the volatile tension between his own states and America's. He needed to get to Charleston. These feelings were pulling him to the harbor. He knew it was where he needed to be.

 _Charleston, SC April 12_ _th_ _, 1861_

South, now calling himself Confederacy, had come to Charleston back in March following Lincoln's inauguration. The 16th president of the United States had threatened Confederacy that he fully intended to enforce America's will on the South. Immediately, the personification of the CSA had come to South Carolina in preparation of the oncoming war.

" _We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave, to every living heart and hearthstone, all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature_ _."_

The words flooded Confederacy with emotion. He could hear his brother's, _ex-brother's_ , pain in Lincoln's words as he read the inaugural speech in the _Charleston Mercury_ newspaper. He dreamed of his ex-brother a lot. He missed America. Confederacy cried out for him like a homesick child calls for his mother in his sleep. Confederacy hated himself for it.

Currently, Confederacy stared at Fort Sumter, still under construction, from the harbor in preparation of the siege on the fort. Lincoln still believed he had a claim to it. Confederacy was here to prove otherwise. He looked to his Confederate soldiers until his eyes landed on Confederate General P.G.T Beauregard. They locked eyes.

"Commander Jones, are you ready?" Beauregard questioned his eyes hard, their artillery positioned and ready to fire.

Confederacy knew this was it. This was going to be the final straw to break America. There was no going back. His heart beat fast and his hands shook. He took a ragged breath in and clenched his teeth before he replied.

"As I'll even be," Confederacy answered with a nod.

Cannon fire boomed along the shore.

 _April 1861, Washington D.C._

Angry hands gripped the paper hard and an agonizing scream tore through the room. The paper crinkled helplessly.

America was in the beginning of a Civil War with his younger brother. A brother he had raised since he had found him all those decades ago in the congressional chamber with his first president, George Washington. A brother he had doted on, loved, given everything to. The words again rang in America's mind.

" _One day, boy, you'll know the pain of having a part of you torn away, and when that day comes I'll watch with interest."_ (1)

America understood Britain, and he hated his previous mentor for it. Britain had predicted his downfall even before he had begun his life as a full-fledged nation. Had this been what Britain felt when America had left him? America stopped his shouting and his face hardened as the mental image of Britain popped in his mind. The Empire had fallen to his knees in conflicted tears and America had mocked him for it.

He wiped the tears from his cheek. His heart cauterized from the burning anger effectively stopping his bleeding heart from feeling. America would not be like Britain.

America would take the shot.

"I want troops down there now!" America bellowed in reference to Fort Sumter to his president, Lincoln.

He threw the balled up paper with the words "Fort Sumter falls!" in bold on it hard to the floor.

"Of course, Mr. America, I'm working on it now," Abraham Lincoln responded in equal fervor.

America suddenly stopped grabbed his chest and gasped. Lincoln looked up in surprise just as a messenger burst into the room. America quickly fell into the nearest chair wheezing. It was an overwhelming minute of a multitude of different things happening at once.

"There's an Arthur Kirkland here to see you, Mr. President," the messenger said urgently.

America's eyes popped open. It had to be anyone but him, perhaps another Arthur Kirkland. Britain wouldn't come see him in person like this, but as America's eyes turned towards the door to the oval office there stood the Empire himself looking as distinguished as ever. America felt his breath hitch, and he wasn't sure if it was from the pain of what felt like a heart attack or seeing Britain for the first time in decades. The last time he'd seen Britain had been signing the Treaty of Ghent after the War of 1812.

"Hello, America," Britain's crisp British accent greeted.

America saw Lincoln's head whip to Britain in surprise before looking to America for answers. One that America was about to give him.

America's eyes hardened, "Britain," he replied in a wheeze and gritted his teeth.

Lincoln's brows furrowed in concern after hearing America's struggling breath, "What's wrong?" he nearly demanded of his nation.

"I'm losing them," America answered his president.

Lincoln's eyes hardened knowingly, but Britain frowned in confusion.

"What are you losing?" the Empire asked with raised brows.

America groaned and spat at Britain in anger, "MY STATES!"

Virginia, Tennessee, and North Carolina were seceding, and there was nothing America could do to stop them.

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 **(1): Not a historical quote. Refer back to the first heading, Yorktown, of Chapter 1 after America beats Britain in the Revolutionary war.**

 **A/N: I hope to give ya'll a chapter at least once a month. If all goes accordingly, I hope to turn out a chapter at least every two weeks.** **Feedback is always appreciated! Thanks for the support!**


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